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THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN 
CIVILIZATION 


THE     DEVELOPMENT     OF 
WESTERN    CIVILIZATION 

A  STUDY  IN  ETHICAL  ECONOMIC  AND 
POLITICAL  EVOLUTION 


By 

J.  DORSEY  FORREST,  Ph.D. 

PROFESSOR  OF  SOCIOLOGY  AND  ECONOMICS  IN  BUTLER  COLLEGE 


I  U^  ^S 


CHICAGO 

THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CHICAGO  PRESS 

1907 


im  1907 


CtoPTEiGHT  1906  By 
The  Univeesitt  of  Chicago 


Published  AprQ  1907 


Compoaed  and  Printed  By 

The  Univenity  of  Chicago  Presi 

Chicago,  lUinoii,  V.  S.  A. 


P  11 


TO  HER 

FROM   WHOSE   TOO   BRIEF   COMPANIONSHIP 
THE   PREPARATION   OF   THESE    PAGES 
CUT   OFF   SO    MANY   PRECIOUS   HOURS 


PREFACE 

This  essay  represents  the  expansion  of  a  dissertation  offered 
for  the  degree  of  Ph.D.  in  the  University  of  Chicago.  It  is  the 
outgrowth  of  the  study  of  certain  present-day  problems.  Feeling 
the  need  of  an  explanation  of  the  development  of  the  conditions 
and  institutions  in  which  I  was  immediately  interested,  I  was  led 
backward  step  by  step  into  an  inquiry  into  social  evolution  in 
general.  I  have  become  convinced  that  a  genetic  explanation 
must  underlie  any  other  explanation.  No  fact  can  be  understood 
until  it  is  viewed  in  relation  to  the  various  other  facts  with  which 
it  is  functionally  connected;  but  all  of  these  together  are  not 
adequately  explained  except  in  the  light  of  their  evolution.  A 
suflScient  statement  of  the  method  and  purpose  of  this  study  is 
given  in  the  introductory  chapter. 

To  cover  so  vast  a  field  in  such  a  work  as  this  the  selection  of 
materials  for  special  examination  becomes  very  difficult.  I  have 
not  desired  to  rehearse  the  more  common  facts  of  history;  but 
in  tracing  the  general  social  movement,  I  have  endeavored  to 
account  for  the  more  important  facts  with  which  the  histories 
deal.  If  sHght  reference  is  made  to  some  important  influence,  as 
that  of  the  Mohammedans,  or  to  some  striking  activity,  as  that  of 
the  crusaders,  it  is  simply  because  I  think  they  are  sufficiently 
accounted  for  in  the  general  statement.  Perhaps  I  should  have 
made  more  direct  application  of  my  point  of  view  to  some  of 
these  important  side  movements.  Minor  counteracting  forces 
and  purely  individual  or  local  influences  have  not  required  treat- 
ment. 

The  footnotes  contain  reasonably  full  reference  to  authorities 
for  facts  and  opinions.  I  have  not  thought  it  desirable  to  expand 
them  further  by  citing  authorities  for  statements  of  facts  that 
have  become  common  property.  On  the  other  hand,  acknowl- 
edgment should  be  made  to  such  pioneers  in  economic  history 
as  Rogers,  Ashley,  and  Cunningham  for  assistance  that  is  not 


viii  PREFACE 

confined  to  page  and  line  of  the  text.  My  chief  indebtedness, 
however,  is  to  instructors  under  whom  it  was  my  privilege  to  work 
in  the  University  of  Chicago.  I  have  made  many  references  to 
the  lectures  of  Professor  John  Dewey,  now  of  Columbia  Univer- 
sity; but  my  obligation  to  him  can  by  no  means  be  sufficiently 
acknowledged  in  the  footnotes.  To  Professor  George  H.  Mead 
I  am  indebted  for  the  important  distinction  between  the  intellec- 
tual and  the  emotional  realization  of  social  relations,  and  for  the 
still  more  important  conception  of  the  character  of  the  ideals  which 
controlled  mediaeval  society.  I  am  unable  to  make  specific  ac- 
knowledgment for  the  many  helpful  suggestions  made  by  him  in 
his  seminary  in  mediaeval  philosophy.  I  am  still  less  able  to 
make  specific  acknowledgment  of  my  indebtedness  to  Professor 
Albion  W.  Small  for  the  view  of  the  nature  of  society  and  for  the 
method  of  sociological  investigation  which  have  been  the  shaping 
influences  throughout  my  investigations. 

The  pedagogical  use  which  I  have  made  of  this  material  may 
not  commend  itself  to  other  instructors;  but  it  has  increased  my 
confidence  in  the  value  of  the  method  which  I  have  pursued.  It 
has  been  my  custom  to  follow  a  course  in  anthropology  and  culture 
history  with  a  course  in  social  history  in  which  I  have  used  sub- 
stantially the  material  given  in  the  following  pages.  Such  courses 
have  done  more  to  enable  students  to  apply  the  evolutionary  point 
of  view  to  the  study  of  social  problems  than  anything  else  that  I 
have  been  able  to  give  them. 

Lest  some  readers  may  receive  the  impression  that  my  view 
of  society  is  materialistic,  I  desire  to  say  that  it  is  not.  I  am  con- 
cerned here  only  with  the  problem  of  social  evolution.  The  origin 
of  the  universe,  the  final  destiny  of  the  individual,  the  possibility 
of  new  light  from  a  supranatural  world,  are  problems  which  do 
not  concern  this  inquiry.  This  last,  at  least,  depends  on  a  social 
development  until  some  "fulness  of  time"  is  reached. 

Both  the  preparation  of  the  first  draft  of  this  work  and  its  pres- 
ent revision  have  suffered  many  interruptions.  As  a  consequence, 
my  work  has  dragged  on  for  several  years;  and  this  method  of 
writing  has  doubtless  caused  some  scrappiness  in  the  presentation 


PREFACE  IX 

of  matter  which,  under  the  most  favorable  circumstances,  could 
with  difficulty  be  given  homogeneous  treatment.  This  delay 
also  accounts  for  failure  to  refer  at  all  to  some  valuable  books 
which  have  appeared  recently ;  but  I  am  familiar  with  none  that 
would  have  changed  the  method  here  employed  or  the  general 
results  obtained. 

J.  D.  F. 
Indianapolis,  Ind. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.    The  Contribution  of  Antiquity  to  Modern  Society    ...  i 

The  Contribution  of  Israel 2 

Religious  Conceptions  of  the  Tribal  Period 3 

Religious  Conceptions  of  the  National  Period 6 

Influence  of  World-Movements  on  Religious  Conceptions  13 

The  Culmination  of  Judaism 19 

The  Contribution  of  Greece 21 

The  Earlier  Internal  Development  of  Greece 22 

The  Influence  of  Egypt  and  Phoenicia 26 

Period  of  Athenian  Expansion 35 

Period  of  Decay  and  Reflection 42 

The  Contribution  of  Rome 52 

The  Earlier  Social  Organization 52 

The  Expansion  of  Rome 56 

The  Development  of  Roman  Law 61 

Summary 65 

II.    The  Problem  Set  for  Medieval  Society 68 

Christian  Doctrine  and  Polity  to  the  Fall  of  Rome  .    .  69 

The  Beginnings  of  the  Middle  Ages 79 

The  Ethical  Problem  of  the  Middle  Ages 91 

III.  The  Organization  of  Agriculture 108 

Roman  Methods  at  the  Time  of  the  Invasions     ....  ho 

Teutonic  Agricultural  Methods 115 

The  Feudal  System  and  Agriculture       120 

Italy 123 

England 128 

Western  and  Central  Europe 154 

Conclusion 181 

IV.  The  Development  of  Commerce 186 

Preparation  for  Commerce 190 

The  Beginning  of  Commerce 195 

The  Rise  of  the  Towns 200 

Establishment  of  Urban  Constitutions 207 

The  Gilds  and  the  Status  of  the  Individual 219 


xii  CONTENTS 

CHAFTES  ^*0* 

The  Southern  Cities 237 

The  Cities  of  Southern  France 237 

Amalfi 239 

Venice 241 

Florence 245 

The  Decay  of  the  Southern  Cities 248 

The  Commercial  Leagues 257 

The  National  State 274 

V.    The  End  of  the  Middle  Ages 286 

The  Reformation  in  Religion 288 

The  Economics  of  the  Church 291 

The  New  Nominalism 296 

The  Beginnings  of  Modern  Thought 298 

Political  Philosophy 302 

The  Conception  of  the  State 303 

The  Law  of  Nations 305 

The  Democratic  Movement 309 

VLf^SociAL  Movements  OF  Today 317 

The  Extension  of  Democracy 321 

Industrialism 324 

The  Industrial  Revolution 325 

Capitalism 331 

Labor 339 

Consumption 350 

Social  Ideals 359 

Appendix:  Method  and  Scope  of  Inquiry 365 

The  Relation  of  Fact  to  Interpretation       365 

The  Complexity  of  Social  Phenomena 368 

The  Interrelations  of  the  Various  Social  Sciences     .    .    .     .  371 

The  Organic  Nature  of  Society 373 

The  Genetic  Study  of  Society "     ....  376 

The  Demands  of  Sociology  upon  History        384 

The  Method  and  Material  of  Social  History 387 

The  Relation  of  History  of  Thought  to  Social  History      .     .  393 

Index 398 


CHAPTER  I 
THE  CONTRIBUTION  OF  ANTIQUITY  TO  MODERN  SOCIETY 

Social  history^  is  more  than  a  mere  description  of  customs, 
manners,  and  unfamiliar  incidents  which  have  been  omitted  by 
the  ordinary  historians.  It  is  an  account  of  the  most  significant 
events  in  the  life  of  a  people — of  events  which  have  had  a  shaping 
influence  in  the  development  of  their  social  organization  as  a 
whole.  It  must  traverse  much  of  the  same  ground  covered  by  the 
ordinary  histories;  but  it  will  view  the  same  facts  from  a  different 
angle,  and  must  introduce  many  facts  which  are  disregarded  by 
the  historian  of  political  events.  But  a  social  history  must  do 
more  than  relate  facts.  If  the  course  of  social  evolution  is  to  be 
traced,  it  is  necessary  to  analyze  the  facts  in  order  to  discover  their 
causal  relations;  and  this  analysis  must  be  as  much  broader  than 
that  of  ordinary  historical  method  as  the  whole  social  life  is  broader 
than  the  political  institutions  of  society. 

In  the  following  pages  the  analysis  of  the  significant  facts  of 
European  social  history  is  made  on  the  basis  of  their  ethical, 
economic,  or  political  values.'  When  viewing  social  development 
in  its  ethical  aspects,  the  significant  fact  for  us  is  the  end  or  ideal 
of  society.  We  shall  find  that  the  social  activities  are  largely 
shaped  by  the  social  ends.  At  the  present  day  these  are  varying 
and  uncertain,  and  are  projected  by  the  very  activities  which  must 
be  guided  by  them;  but  during  the  formative  period  in  European 
social  development  they  were  definite  and  fixed,  and  had  been 
given  by  forces  outside  of  the  existing  society.  They  were  the 
result  of  the  development  and  decay  of  previous  societies.  It  is 
therefore  necessary  to  trace  the  development  of  the  essential  fea- 
tures of  certain  ancient  societies,  and  to  discover  the  manner  in 
which  these  were  transmuted  into  ideals  for  Europe.     There  is 

»  Vide  Appendix, 
a  Vide  Appendix. 


2  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

nothing  new  in  the  statement  that  modem  society  has  inherited 
much  from  the  past;  but  the  fact  that  this  inheritance  was  in  the 
shape  of  ideals  which  guided  the  activities  of  Europe  for  a  thou- 
sand years  is  not  so  commonly  recognized.  We  must  first  trace 
the  working-out  of  these  ideals  by  antiquity. 

Modern  civilization  is  the  result  of  the  appropriation  by  Teu- 
tonic peoples  and  other  peoples  with  whom  the  Teutons  had 
mingled  of  the  outcome  of  the  Israelitish,  the  Greek,  and  the 
Roman  social  hfe.  Each  of  these  societies  had  perished  as  it 
came  to  consciousness  of  the  essential  nature  of  its  own  life.  The 
translation  of  its  social  activities  into  consciousness  came  about 
when  the  national  life  was  disintegrating  and  men  were  forced  to 
reflect  upon  it.  The  three  strains  were  blended  in  the  Graeco- 
Roman  Empire,  and  were  carried  over  to  modern  society,  repre- 
sented chiefly  by  the  Teutons,  largely  through  the  instrumentality 
of  the  church.  The  beginnings  of  modern  society  are  to  be  found 
in  these  three  ancient  societies  rather  than  in  the  earlier  life  of  the 
Teutonic  tribes  themselves ;  for  the  latter  contributed  Uttle  more 
than  the  raw  materials  of  civilization.  They  furnished  the  practi- 
cal strength  with  which  to  appropriate  the  contributions  which  the 
other  peoples  had  exhausted  themselves  in  making.  Accordingly, 
a  study  of  the  evolution  of  modern  society  involves  a  consideration 
of  the  heritage  from  antiquity  with  which  the  barbarians  started  off. 

THE  CONTRIBUTION  OF  ISRAEL 

The  history  of  the  Israelites  is  the  history  of  the  development  of  a 
nomadic  people  under  pecuhar  conditions.  The  wandering  life  of 
the  Hebrew  tribes  did  not  permit  the  development  of  local  divinities, 
and  was  therefore  unfavorable  to  the  development  of  polytheism. 
The  Hebrew  monotheism,  however,  was  but  the  absence  of  mul- 
tiplicity, the  reflection  of  a  simple  mode  of  hfe;  it  had  not  the 
significance  of  the  Greek  monotheism  which  arose  from  the  for- 
mulation of  a  single  law  and  order  in  a  universe  that  was  full  of 
multipUcity.^  Only  in  later  times  does  the  monotheism  of  Israel 
assume  the  same  characteristics  as  the  Greek;    but  it  is  none  the 

I  Dewey,  unpublished  lectures  on  The  Evolution  of  Morality. 


CONTRIBUTION  OF  ANTIQUITY  TO  MODERN  SOCIETY    3 

less  eflfective — indeed,  it  is  more  effective — as  a  social  force  because 
it  is  of  this  naive  character. 

The  religious  life  of  the  Semitic  tribes  probably  differed  but 
little  from  that  of  the  Aryans  when  the  social  organization  and 
mode  of  life  of  the  two  groups  were  similar.  The  divergence  of 
the  religious  development  of  the  two  races,  which  became  more  and 
more  marked  in  the  course  of  ages,  was  not  caused  altogether,  or 
chiefly,  by  innate  racial  tendencies,  but  was  due  to  the  operation 
of  local  and  historical  causes.  If  the  Aryans  had  gone  through 
the  same  tribal  experiences  as  the  Semites  at  as  early  a  period, 
they  would  probably  have  manifested  the  same  religious  char- 
acteristics, though  certain  racial  traits  may  have  been  developed 
while  each  was  in  the  savage  state.  The  small  Semitic  communities 
were  separated  from  each  other  by  incessant  feuds,  necessitated 
largely  by  their  physical  environment;  hence  the  strengthening 
of  the  patriarchal  principle  and  of  the  principle  of  solidarity  be- 
tween gods  and  their  worshipers  could  go  on  as  nowhere  else.* 

Religious  conceptions  of  the  tribal  period. — Neither  the  social 
life  nor  the  religious  conceptions  of  the  Hebrew  tribes  appears 
to  have  differed  materially  from  other  Semitic  tribes;  but  as  time 
went  on  certain  of  the  common  tendencies  received  a  peculiar 
emphasis  and  certain  new  tendencies  began  to  appear;  and  this 
peculiar  development,  especially  in  later  times,  became  more 
marked  in  the  case  of  the  Israelites  than  in  that  of  the  other 
Hebrews. 

The  economic  conditions  of  Hebrew  life,  alike  removed  from 
the  hunting  and  the  agricultural  stages,  prepared  the  way  for 
the  development  of  a  monotheism.  The  patriarchal  family  was 
strongly  organized.  Under  pastoral  conditions  flocks  and  herds 
become  private  property,  and  a  constant  accumulation  and  trans- 
mission of  property  goes  on.  In  savage  life  there  is  no  such  thing 
as  private  property. '  Hereditary  chieftainships  grow  up  with 
hereditary  continuance  of  property.     Persons  who  have  been  un- 

*  Smith  (W.  R.),  The  Religion  of  the  Semites,  32-35. 

'  Dr.  Veblen  has  suggested  the  term  "quasi-personal  fringe"  to  describe  the 
few  personal  possessions  which  are  found  in  savagery. 


4  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

successsful  in  building  up  strong  families  and  securing  great 
wealth  fall  under  control  of  the  powerful  chief  either  by  conquest 
or  by  voluntary  surrender.  The  powerful  individual  thus  stands 
out  from  the  mass,  and  the  basis  is  found  for  both  the  develop- 
ment of  social  organization  and  the  spreading  of  the  sense  of  in- 
dividuality throughout  the  mass.  The  consciousness  of  individ- 
uaUty  is  a  comparatively  late  social  product.  A  few  individuals 
had  to  be  raised  above  the  mass;  then  others  could  follow  them.* 
The  consequence  of  this  emphasis  of  the  personality  of  the  pa- 
triarch or  chief  is,  first  of  all,  the  recognition  by  the  masses  of 
the  individual  rights  and  powers  of  the  chief  and  of  the  god  who 
is  the  counterpart  of  the  chief;  only  much  later  do  the  masses 
come  to  recognize  the  rights  of  all  individuals. 

Thus,  the  economic  conditions  of  the  Hebrews  made  necessary 
both  the  consolidation  of  the  family  and  the  growth  of  individ- 
uaUty.  The  gods  of  the  Hebrew  tribes,  in  common  with  those 
of  peoples  in  a  similar  condition,  naturally  became  members  of 
the  social  group — fathers  or  chiefs,  or  both — and  the  rites  and 
ceremonies  were  those  which  belonged  to  the  community.  The 
social  opposition  was  not  between  the  people  and  its  gods,  but 
between  peoples,  including  their  gods.  Other  gods  were  not 
denied,  but  their  character  was  regarded  as  inferior.  The  re- 
ligion of  the  Israehtes  was  thus  monolatrous  rather  than  mono- 
theistic. There  was  nothing  inconsistent  in  their  wandering  after 
the  gods  of  their  kinsmen,  when  these  seemed  for  the  time  able 
to  grant  them  favors.  But  since  every  small  Semitic  community 
was  frequently  on  terms  of  hostihty  with  all  neighboring  tribes, 
the  development  of  a  polytheistic  system  was  practically  impos- 
sible.' When  Israel  was  at  war  with  neighboring  tribes,  Israel 
was  most  faithful  to  Jehovah. 

It  was  only  as  the  smaller  groups  coalesced  into  larger  ones 
that  a  pantheon  could  be  formed  on  the  model  of  the  more  com- 
plex social  organization.  The  problem  of  the  Assyrian  and 
Babylonian  leaders  was  the  formation  of  a  larger  society  which 

»  Dewey,  ibid. 

»  Smith,  op.  cit.,  35-39. 


CONTRIBUTION  OF  ANTIQUITY  TO  MODERN  SOCIETY     5 

would  include  numerous  smaller  groups  and  their  gods.  The 
earliest  religious  conceptions  had  been  lost  long  before  the  period 
at  which  we  first  find  the  Aryans  and  Semites;  but  from  the  earli- 
est formation  of  the  Semitic  pastoral  groups,  each  worshiped  in 
its  own  small  clan  a  tutelary  divinity  who  was  protector  of  the 
flocks  and  herds.  This  was  characteristic  of  all  Semites  during 
their  tribal  life,  and  had  its  influence  in  the  later  religious  devel- 
opment of  all  of  them.^  But  at  a  very  early  period  the  usual 
religious  development,  and  the  amalgamation  of  neighboring 
tribes  introduced  polytheistic  tendencies;  and  the  persistence 
and  development  of  the  monolatry  of  the  Israelites  must  have 
been  due  to  peculiar  influences.  The  vague,  primitive  worship 
of  the  one  protector  of  flocks,  becoming  more  definite  and  anthro- 
pomorphic with  the  development  of  their  social  organization,  led 
the  other  Hebrew  tribes — the  Edomites,  Moabites,  and  Ammon- 
ites— to  a  polytheistic  religion;  but  the  Israelites  were  saved  from 
a  similar  course.  Their  difficulty  came  later  when  they  fell  under 
the  influence  of  the  civilized  Canaanites  whom  they  had  con- 
quered, or  when  they  were  influenced  by  foreign  alliances;  and  then 
the  seductions  of  foreign  practices  could  not  lead  to  an  amalgama- 
tion that  would  give  their  national  religion  a  genuinely  new  trend. 
Why  the  Israelites  did  not  become  polytheists,  it  will  probably 
never  be  possible  to  tell  with  certainty.  The  close  relationship 
of  the  clans,  their  long  semi-subject  position  on  the  edge  of  the 
Nile  valley,  the  commanding  influence  of  Moses,  the  exigencies 
of  their  migrations,  all  contributed  to  maintain  their  earlier  re- 
ligious customs  until  the  latter  had  become  too  fully  developed 
to  be  easily  altered.'  At  all  events,  when  the  Israelites  entered 
Palestine,  although  they  were  at  a  low  level  of  civilization,  they 

^  Pietschmann,  Geschichte  der  Phonizier,  1 70. 

a  Montefiore,  Origin  and  Growth  of  Religion  as  Illustrated  by  the  Religion  0} 
the  Ancient  Hebrews,  29-50,  explains  the  unique  character  of  the  Israelitish  religion 
wholly  on  the  basis  of  the  genius  and  power  of  Moses.  But  the  "law  of  mon- 
olatry" of  which  he  makes  so  much  would  be  inexplicable  except  on  the  assumption 
that  it  was  not  wholly  at  variance  with  a  previous  "  custom  of  monolatry. "  Moses 
could  have  had  great  influence  at  some  critical  time  in  shaping  the  religion  of 
his  people;  but  he  could  hardly  have  been  able  to  make  it  over. 


6  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

had  an  enthusiasm  for  the  religion  of  Jehovah  which  enabled 
them  to  absorb  the  more  highly  civilized  Canaanites,  in  spite  of 
the  temptations  of  a  more  sensuous  worship,  held  them  together 
in  more  or  less  unity,  in  spite  of  local  jealousies  and  the  enforced 
isolation  that  resulted  from  simultaneous  attacks  in  every  section; 
and  finally,  when  they  were  consolidated  under  pressure  of  a  single 
enemy,  made  it  possible  for  them  to  blend  the  different  local  di- 
vergencies of  rehgion  into  a  common  national  faith  and  worship. 
The  remnants  of  family  totems  or  household  gods^  did  not  entirely 
disappear  until  a  late  period,  and  the  temptations  to  turn  to  the 
grosser  forms  of  worship  of  neighboring  peoples  were  strong  until 
after  the  exile;  yet  the  Israelitish  religion  had  a  most  decided 
monotheistic  tendency  from  the  beginning  of  the  national  history. 

Religious  conceptions  of  the  national  period. — It  is  impossible 
within  the  limits  of  this  chapter  to  discuss  in  detail  the  nature  of 
Israel's  reUgious  development;  but  the  statement  above  made 
will  be  sufl&cient  for  our  present  purpose.  Until  the  monarchy 
was  well  estabhshed,  the  conception  of  God  as  a  father  and  chief 
remained  practically  unchanged.  Since  the  break-up  of  the  nar- 
rower tribal  life,  God  could  not  be  so  much  a  father  as  a  chief, 
but  the  idea  of  inclusion  of  God  within  the  community  still  pre- 
vailed. The  change  that  went  on  during  the  later  tribal  period 
and  the  earlier  national  period  was  the  counterpart  of  the  social 
change.  The  natural  religious  relationship  of  child  to  father 
changed  to  the  covenant  relationship,  and  God  came  to  be  re- 
garded as  a  king;  but  the  people  were  not  set  oS  over  against  God 
in  their  religious  conceptions  until  after  the  beginning  of  the  in- 
fluence of  world-movements  upon  the  life  of  Israel. 

The  covenant  relationship  grew  out  of  the  practice  of  isolated 
men  putting  themselves  under  the  protection  of  powerful  chief- 
tains. From  the  earliest  times  the  lawlessness  of  the  desert  has 
been  tempered  by  the  practice  of  hospitaUty  for  a  few  days,  and 
more  permanent  protection  is  usually  granted  when  desired. 
Under  these  latter  circumstances,  the  strangers,  gerim,  as  the 
Semites  called  them,  would  naturally  be  absorbed  into  the  clan. 

I  Gen.  3i:i9fif.;   Judg.  17:5;   I  Sam.  19:13;   Hos.  3:4. 


CONTRIBUTION  OF  ANTIQUITY  TO  MODERN  SOCIETY     7 

But  when  they  became  very  numerous  because  of  the  migrations 
and  the  deportations  of  conquered  peoples,  the  newcomers  became 
clients  rather  than  children  of  the  chief  and  tribal  god.  A  man 
was  no  longer  so  sure  of  his  standing  with  the  tribal  god  as  he  had 
formerly  been,  but  felt  that  his  acceptance  depended  on  his  good 
behavior  and  the  free  grace  of  the  deity.  The  ceremony  connected 
with  naturalization  was  thus  transferred  to  the  relationships 
of  the  client  to  the  patron  god,  and  there  was  practically  a  covenant 
established  by  which  certain  favors  were  received  in  return  for 
certain  sacrifices  and  ceremonies.^  It  was,  of  course,  natural 
that  the  important  ceremony  of  naturalization  should  be  conse- 
crated by  religious  ceremonies  at  a  time  when  all  of  the  essential 
functions  of  life  were  so  consecrated,  and  it  was  equally  natural 
that  such  a  social  arrangement  should  be  reflected  in  the  religious 
conceptions  of  the  time.  With  the  amalgamations  and  subjuga- 
tions which  accompanied  the  formation  of  larger  communities, 
the  covenant  idea  came  to  replace  the  older  conception. 

What  the  social  causes  of  the  universal  acceptance  of  the  cov- 
enant idea  by  the  Israelites  were  we  do  not  know.  Possibly  a  num- 
ber of  clans  not  previously  united  were  forced  to  associate  together, 
and  as  a  sign  of  their  amalgamation  formally  adopted  the  divinity 
of  the  most  powerful.^  Possibly  Moses  had  been  able  to  secure 
the  general  recognition  of  the  deity  of  his  own  family  or  clan.^ 
Possibly  the  necessary  amalgamation  of  the  tribes  during  the 
migrations  had  brought  it  about.  But  although  the  covenant 
idea  was  held  at  the  beginning  of  authentic  history,  its  full  force 
did  not  come  out  until  after  the  exile,  when  the  last  remnant  of 
the  old  natural  relationship  to  God  had  disappeared  and  the  peo- 
ple felt  that  they  had  no  rights  of  their  own,  but  were  absolutely 
dependent  on  the  bounty  of  Jehovah.'*  By  that  time  the  concep- 
tion of  a  physical  relationship  to  God  as  a  necessary  father  had 
disappeared,  and  the  relation  became  a  voluntary  one  based  on 
an  agreement  which  implied  two  parties. 

I  Smith,  op.  cit.,  75-81. 
'  Dewey,  ibid. 

3  Wellhausen,  History  of  Israel,  433. 

4  Lev.  25:23;    Ps.  39:12;    I  Chron.  29:15;    etc. 


8  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

Along  with  this  development  of  the  covenant  idea,  there  had 
gone  another  change  with  the  Israehtes  in  common  with  some 
of  their  Semitic  neighbors.  God,  from  being  a  father  like  the 
patriarch,  became  an  absolute  king.  This  idea  also  was  the  reflec- 
tion of  the  social  conditions.  It  came  about  by  the  decay  of  free 
tribal  institutions,  when  some  members  of  the  tribes  had  become 
strong  enough  to  retain  the  chieftainship  in  their  own  family.  The 
law  of  blood-revenge  was  then  moderated,  the  object  of  the  chief 
being  to  preserve  and  strengthen  his  tribe  by  reconciling  disputants. 
As  the  chief  became  stronger  and  better  able  to  enforce  his  will 
in  settling  his  subjects'  quarrels,  it  became  natural  to  think  of 
the  deity  as  the  champion  of  right  against  might.  The  primitive 
equaUty  of  the  tribal  system  thus  passed  into  an  aristocracy  of 
the  more  powerful  leaders,  and  the  poorer  members  dropped  into 
a  dependent  position.  The  king  or  head  chief  alone  could  check 
the  aggrandizement  of  the  nobles,  and  he  always  sought  to  do  so 
in  order  to  maintain  his  own  authority.  In  Greece  and  Rome 
and  among  the  Teutons  the  kingship  fell  before  the  aristocracy; 
in  Asia  the  royal  power  usually  held  its  own.  It  had  to  be  so,  if 
the  nation  was  to  survive  in  the  midst  of  powerful  neighbors, 
while  the  isolation  of  small  groups  of  the  Aryans  in  the  earlier 
period  enabled  them  to  maintain  an  aristocracy.  The  Asiatic 
king  devloped  into  a  despot,  or  was  crushed  by  a  neighboring 
despot.  This  social  condition  was  reflected  in  the  reHgious 
conceptions. 

The  tendency  of  the  West,  where  the  kingship  succumbed,  was  toward 
a  divine  aristocracy  of  many  gods,  only  modified  by  a  weak  reminiscence  of 
the  old  kingship  in  the  not  very  effective  sovereignty  of  Zeus,  while  in  the  East 
the  national  god  tended  to  acquire  a  really  monarchic  sway.  What  is  often 
described  as  the  natural  tendency  of  Semitic  religion  toward  ethical  mono- 
theism, is  in  the  main  nothing  more  than  a  consequence  of  the  alliance  of 
religion  with  monarchy The  prophetic  idea  that  Jehovah  will  vindi- 
cate the  right  even  in  the  destruction  of  his  own  people  of  Israel,  involves  an 
ethical  standard  as  foreign  to  Semitic  as  to  Aryan  tradition.  Thus,  as  regards 
their  ethical  tendency,  the  differences  between  Eastern  and  Western  religion 
is  one  of  degree  rather  than  of  principle;  all  that  we  can  say  is  that  the  East 
was  better  prepared  to  receive  the  idea  of  a  god  of  absolute  righteousness, 
because  its  political  institutions  and  history,  and,  not  least,  the  enormous 


CONTRIBUTION  OF  ANTIQUITY  TO  MODERN  SOCIETY    9 

gulf  between  the  ideal  and  the  reality  of  human  sovereignty,  directed  men 's 
minds  to  appreciate  the  need  of  righteousness  more  strongly,  and  accus- 
tomed them  to  look  to  a  power  of  monarchic  character  as  its  necessary  source.^ 

Hence,  the  Aryan  pantheons  in  Europe  were  oligarchical;  those 
of  the  Semitic  nations  and  of  their  Aryan  neighbors  who  lived 
under  similar  conditions  were  despotic.  From  the  subjugation 
of  all  rivals  by  the  king,  the  inference  was  naturally  drawn  that 
there  was  one  supreme  god  to  whom  all  men  and  all  other  gods 
were  subject.  If  a  pantheon  was  not  formed,  the  supremacy  of 
the  divine  king  over  men  was  none  the  less  marked. 

As  a  result  of  these  two  important  conceptions — God  as  an 
absolute  sovereign,  and  man's  covenant  relationship  to  him — cer- 
tain changes  took  place  in  the  mode  of  worship ;  and  these  changes 
were  furthered  by  the  change  in  industrial  life.  Sacrifice  among 
the  Semites  had  at  first  been  chiefly  the  sharing  of  the  common 
meal  with  the  god  who  was  a  member  of  the  community.  Animal 
sacrifice  belongs  distinctively  to  the  pastoral  stage  of  social  life. 
The  sanctification  of  the  common  meal,  which  is  impossible  among 
a  hunting  people  whose  meals  are  very  irregular,  implies  the 
solidarity  of  the  family  and  the  inclusion  of  the  gods  within  it. 
Therefore  every  patriarch  was  a  priest.  This  condition  of  affairs 
lasted  until  the  convenant  idea  had  become  universal.  So  the 
earliest  Israehtish  code  of  law,  the  Book  of  the  Covenant,  which 
was  applicable  in  an  early  agricultural  stage  of  civilization  before 
nomadic  habits  had  entirely  disappeared,  makes  no  reference 
to  the  interposition  of  priests  in  the  customary  sacrifices."  These 
laws  give  evidence  of  the  covenant  conception,  ^  but  the  local  forms 
of  worship  had  not  been  displaced  by  the  national  cult.  This 
code  was  doubtless  the  law  of  the  land  from  the  end  of  the  period 
of  settlement  until  the  monarchy  was  permanently  established. 
The  priestly  class  was  doubtless  in  existence  during  a  part  of  that 
period,  but  was  only  of  local  importance.  It  was  impossible, 
after  the  dispersion  of  the  clans  over  the  conquered  territory, 

*  Smith,  op.  cit.,  73,  74. 

» Exod.  20:22 — 23:33. 

3  Driver,  Introduction  to  the  Literature  of  the  Old  Testament,  35. 


lO  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

to  maintain  the  central  political  and  religious  system  that  had  been 
rendered  necessary  by  the  exigencies  of  the  wilderness  march  and 
the  common  wars  of  the  migration.  The  Mosaic  sanctuary  soon 
lost  its  central  importance  and  became  a  local  shrine.^  The 
religion  of  the  supreme  Jehovah  was  not  necessarily  discarded,  but 
the  local  forms  of  worship,  influenced  by  contact  with  Canaanitish 
practices,  became  of  much  greater  relative  importance.  Only  in 
times  of  common  danger  could  the  people  be  united  politically 
or  religiously. 

But  the  development  of  agriculture,  the  increased  facility  of 
intercommunication,  and  the  centralization  of  political  power 
necesarily  led  to  the  centralization  of  the  national  elements  in  the 
religion.  That  this  did  not  take  place  at  once,  even  with  the  build- 
ing of  the  temple,  is  shown  by  the  continued  prevalence  of  local 
forms  of  worship.  The  central  worship  could  not  crowd  out  at 
once  the  local  practices.  The  earlier  prophets,  Elijah  and  Elisha, 
although  speaking  for  Jehovah,  took  no  exception  to  the  calf- wor- 
ship of  the  northern  kingdom.  What  these  men  contended  for  was 
the  customary  morality  of  Israel  as  against  the  contamination  of 
foreign  practices.  The  narratives  of  these  two  prophets  incorpo- 
rated in  the  book  of  Kings  know  nothing  of  the  law  of  the  single 
altar,  and  accept  as  fitting  a  semi-patriarchal  form  of  worship.  By 
their  time  the  sacrifices  had  lost  something  of  their  old  honorific 
character  and  had  taken  on  something  of  the  character  of  tribute 
rendered  to  the  deity  in  order  to  receive  his  favors,  but  they  had 
not  yet  become  distinctively  expiative. 

As  a  consequence  of  the  changes  that  were  going  on  in  the 
religious  life  of  the  people,  a  conflict  arose  between  those  who 
stood  for  the  older  practices  and  those  who  stood  for  national  cen- 
tralization. The  former  were  the  prophets,  the  latter  the  priests. 
Biblical  scholars  usually  recognize  a  conflict  between  these  two 
parties,  but  make  •  practically  no  distinction  between  this  earher 
conflict  and  that  which  was  carried  on  after  the  period  of  written 
prophecy  began.  In  this  latter  conflict  the  prophets  appear  as 
the  hberals  and  reformers;  and  it  has  been  concluded  that  the 

'  Smith  (W.  R.),  The  Prophets  of  Israel,  36-38. 


CONTRIBUTION  OF  ANTIQUITY  TO  MODERN  SOCIETY  ii 

prophets  always  represented  the  progressive  element.  But  the 
only  common  characteristic  of  the  prophets  of  the  two  periods  was 
their  common  opposition  to  the  royal  power  in  the  interest  of  the 
morality  of  the  people. 

The  earlier  conflict  seems  to  have  been  carried  on  by  the 
prophets  in  the  interest  of  the  customary  rights  of  the  people 
which  were  being  endangered  by  the  centralization  of  religion  at 
the  capital  and  the  importation  of  foreign  practices.  There  had 
been  no  particular  opposition  to  the  establishment  of  the  royal 
power,  for  all  classes  felt  the  need  of  a  stronger  political  organiza- 
tion, while  the  agricultural  development  rendered  such  an  organi- 
zation possible  and  natural.  Men  did  not  see  that  such  political 
changes  were  bound  to  lead  to  religious  changes.  The  prophets 
did  not  oppose  any  of  the  various  local  forms  of  worship,  even 
when  these  were  connected  with  a  mild  form  of  idolatry;  but  they 
did  object  to  the  destruction  of  local  rights  in  the  interest  of  the 
central  government  and  to  the  importation  of  foreign  customs 
which  the  national  politics  rendered  necessary.  Nathan  was  able 
to  deter  David  from  building  the  temple,^  and  thus  prevented 
him  from  centralizing  the  religious  interests  as  he  had  centralized 
the  political.  Nevertheless,  the  centralization  was  bound  to  come; 
and  under  Solomon  an  extensive  religious  establishment  was  set 
up.  Yet  this  did  not  do  away  with  the  local  religious  practices, 
and  there  was  no  serious  attempt  to  root  these  out  until  well  on 
toward  the  time  of  the  exile.  When,  however,  Solomon  introduced 
foreign  religious  ceremonies — which  seem  to  have  been  uniformly 
acceptable  to  the  priests — it  was  felt  that  the  foundations  of  Israel- 
itish  religion  were  being  sapped.  And  when  Solomon  added  to 
these  errors  the  voluptuousness  of  an  oriental  court,  and  the  eco- 
nomic follies  by  which  he  impoverished  all  the  other  sections  to 
adorn  his  capital  and  exchanged  the  scant  agricultural  products 
of  Israel  for  monkeys,  peacocks,  ivory,  and  other  luxuries,'  the 
prophetic  class  which  stood  for  the  traditional  morality  rebelled 
and  inspired  the  division  of  the  kingdom. 

I II  Sam.   7:1-17. 

2  McCurdy,  History,  Prophecy,  and  the  Monuments,  II,  155,  156. 


12  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

Yet  the  idea  of  a  national  religion  gradually  gained  favor,  and 
even  the  northern  rulers  felt  constrained  to  follow  the  example 
of  Judah.  With  the  development  of  the  political  machinery  at 
Jerusalem,  the  supremacy  of  the  priests  in  the  southern  kingdom 
was  assured.  The  prophets  were  the  dominant  power  in  the  north- 
em  kingdom;  but  as  local  institutions  steadily  degenerated,  they 
either  degenerated  with  them  or  began  to  look  to  the  sacerdotal 
establishment  at  Jerusalem  as  the  highest  ideal  for  the  whole  peo- 
ple. By  the  time  of  the  first  written  prophecies,  the  work  of  the 
regular  prophets  had  sunk  to  a  mere  trade,  ^  and  Hosea  regarded 
them  as  so  corrupt  that  he  included  prophets  and  priests  in  a  com- 
mon condemnation."  The  moral  sense  of  the  nation  was  being 
debased  when  these  new  prophets  arose  and  condemned  both 
classes  of  oflScial  religious  leaders.^  Neither  Amos  nor  Hosea 
shows  familiarity  with  the  Deuteronomic  code,  but  both  are  rep- 
resentatives of  the  movement  which  finds  expression  in  that  code. 
It  was  found  that  the  separation  of  Israel  from  heathen  practices 
and  the  preservation  of  the  national  morality  demanded  some- 
thing analogous  to  the  law  of  the  central  sanctuary  of  Deuter- 
onomy. 

History  had  shown  that  it  was  impossible  to  secure  the  local  sanctuaries 
against  abuse,  and  to  free  them  from  contamination  by  Canaanitish  idolatry. 
The  prophets  had  more  and  more  distinctly  taught  that  Zion  was  emphati- 
cally Jehovah's  seat;  and  it  became  gradually  more  and  more  plain  that  the 
progress  of  spiritual  religion  demanded  the  unconditional  abolition  of  the 
local  shrines.  It  was  not  enough  to  demoUsh  heathen  sanctuaries:  other 
sanctuaries,  even  though  erected  ostensibly  for  the  worship  of  Jehovah,  must 
not  be  allowed  to  take  their  place.  Hezekiah,  supported,  it  may  be  presumed, 
by  prophetical  authority,  sought  to  give  practical  effect  to  this  teaching.  But 
he  was  unable  to  bring  it  really  home  to  the  nation's  heart;  and  the  heathen 
reaction  under  Manasseh  ensued.  Naturally,  this  result  only  impressed  the 
prophetical  party  more  strongly  with  the  importance  of  the  principle  which 
Hezekiah  had  sought  to  enforce;  and  it  is  accordingly  codified  and  ener- 
getically inculcated  in  Deuteronomy.* 

'  Amos  7 :  la. 

»Hos.  4:5. 

3  Smith,  Prophets,  104,  105. 

♦  Driver,  Introduction,  93. 


CONTRIBUTION  OF  ANTIQUITY  TO  MODERN  SOCIETY  13 

This  body  of  legislation,  first  enforced  by  Josiah  in  621,  marks 
the  social  recognition  of  the  necessity  of  a  centralized  religion. 
The  ends  desired  were  not  fully  secured  until  after  the  exile,  but 
the  ideal  was  definitely  recognized.  Without  this  the  nation 
would  probably  have  disintegrated  when  assaulted  by  its  power- 
ful foes.  The  effect  of  this  movement  would  seem  to  be  simply 
to  strengthen  the  priests;  but  it  also  helped  to  secure  the  results 
desired  by  the  prophets.  The  ordinary  man,  outside  of  Jerusalem 
at  least,  could  no  longer  find  the  essence  of  religion  in  liturgical 
acts.  He  was  now  in  a  position  to  be  kept  in  the  hne  of  moral 
activity  which  the  prophets  enjoined.^ 

Influence  of  world  movements  on  religious  conceptions. — The 
national  religious  development  culminated  with  the  centraliza- 
tion of  worship.  This  was  rendered  inevitable  by  the  unification 
of  the  nation  following  the  development  of  agriculture  and  express- 
ing itself  in  the  establishment  of  the  monarchy.  The  efforts  of 
the  earlier  prophets  to  withstand  this  movement  were  ineffec- 
tual, though  they  doubtless  prevented  the  nation  from  absorbing 
debasing  elements  from  the  religions  of  their  of  more  highly  civilized 
neighbors.  But  this  centralizing  movement  did  not  culminate 
until  Israel  began  to  feel  the  effect  of  the  growth  of  world  em- 
pires. These  larger  political  movements  accelerated  the  develop- 
ments we  have  just  traced,  and  would  have  been  ruinous  but  for 
the  latter;  yet  the  development  under  the  influence  of  these  world 
movements  was  what  made  Israel's  contribution  of  value  to  the 
world. 

The  real  essence  of  the  prophetic  movement  appears  with  the 
beginning  of  the  world  movements  of  the  eighth  century  b.  c. 
It  was  then  that  world  history  as  distinct  from  local  history  began. 
Before  this,  local  institutions  and  beliefs  could  run  their  course 
with  little  interference  from  other  nations.  Now,  they  had  to 
be  generalized  to  meet  the  new  situation.  This  was  true  even 
of  those  institutions  that  were  backed  up  by  sufl&cient  national 
force  to  enable  them  to  absorb  other  local  institutions  and  behefs. 
Much  more,  then,  was  it  true  of  those  which  had  to  persist  by 

*  Wellhausen,  History,  468. 


14  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

virtue  of  their  inner  worth.  The  universal  empires  threatened 
to  absorb  the  Israelites.  It  was  no  longer  possible  to  cleave  to 
Jehovah,  allowing  all  other  peoples  to  cleave  to  their  national  gods. 
It  seemed  that  there  could  no  longer  be  more  than  one  god,  for 
it  seemed  that  that  there  could  no  longer  be  more  than  one  nation. 
To  accept  the  Assyrian  divinities,  as  other  conquered  peoples  did, 
was  now  out  of  the  question.  But  how  was  their  belief  that  Jeho- 
vah was  the  only  God  to  be  reconciled  with  the  fact  of  their  immi- 
nent national  danger  ?  With  this  break  in  the  social  habits,  there 
came  a  consciousness  of  a  dualism :  the  offended  deity  was  set  off  on 
one  side  and  the  sinful  nation  on  the  other.  ^  God  was  no  longer 
a  member  of  the  Israelitish  community.  The  last  vestige  of  the 
old  natural  relationship  of  the  people  to  God  had  passed  away. 

The  most  thoughtful  men  of  the  nation  immediately  began  to 
look  for  the  cause  of  the  evil.  Their  first  conclusion  was  that  the 
cause  was  to  be  found  in  the  toleration  of  foreign  religious  practices. 
These  were  now  seen  to  be  an  unmixed  evil,  since  they  offended 
Jehovah  without  securing  efficient  help  from  the  nations  with 
which  the  sinful  alliances  had  been  made.  The  efforts  to  solve 
the  problem  took  two  courses.  Both  emphasized  the  need  of 
unity;  but  one  would  secure  it  by  purifying  and  restoring  the  old 
religious  customs,  while  the  other  would  cut  loose  from  all  cere- 
monies and  find  reunion  with  God  by  developing  the  right  dispo- 
sition. The  former  was  the  remedy  proposed  by  the  priests, 
the  latter  by  the  prophets.  Here,  as  in  the  earlier  period,  the  two 
classes  arose  simultaneously,  both  representing  the  succession 
of  the  old  patriarchal  priests. 

The  sacerdotal  movement  sought  to  maintain  the  old  order, 
but  had  to  put  a  new  meaning  into  it.  The  sacrifices  should  be 
kept  up,  but  the  deity  could  no  longer  be  considered  a  member 
of  the  community.  He  no  longer  received  honorific  offerings 
as  a  father,  nor  tributary  offerings  as  the  covenant  ruler;  he  had 
become  an  angry  being,  to  be  appeased  by  expiative  sacrifices. 
The  consciousness  of  guilt  came  with  trouble  and  defeat,  and  God 
was  no  longer  identified  with  the  interests  of  his  people.      The 

'  Dewey,  ibid. 


CONTRIBUTION  OF  ANTIQUITY  TO  MODERN  SOCIETY  15 

sacrifices  became  a  magical  means  of  restoring  the  broken  religious 
unity.  The  central  religious  authorities  had  been  greatly  strength- 
ened by  the  Deuteronomic  movement,  but  after  the  exile  they 
became  the  ruling  aristocracy  of  the  nation.  In  Deuteronomy 
the  priest  appears  simply  as  the  regulator  of  the  sacrifices;  in 
Leviticus  he  is  a  mediator.  In  the  former  code  the  sacrificed  ani- 
mal is  to  be  eaten  by  the  owner  in  the  sanctuary,^  in  the  priestly 
code  it  is  assigned  to  the  priest  for  his  absolute  use.^  In 
the  earlier  code  it  is  implied  that  all  Levites  are  qualified  to 
exercise  priestly  functions  and  that  they  have  no  settled  residence  ;3 
in  the  later  the  priests  are  differentiated  from  the  other  members 
of  their  tribe  and  regular  places  of  residence  are  prescribed.'*  In 
short,  the  democratic  element  of  the  old  religion  had  entirely  dis- 
appeared, and  the  sacerdotal  class  had  become  necessary  to  bridge 
the  gulf  between  the  people  and  God.  Set  ceremonials  took  the 
place  of  the  popular  religious  customs.  The  old  forms  were  gath- 
ered up  and  worked  into  the  national  cult,  so  that  they  might 
be  preserved.  God  could  be  appeased  only  through  the  priests. 
This  movement  began  with  the  threatened  downfall  of  independ- 
ence, and  soon  showed  its  essential  character,  but  it  did  not  gain 
full  force  until  the  time  of  the  reforms  of  Ezra  (444  b.  c.)  after 
the  return  from  exile. ^ 

At  the  same  time  that  the  priestly  class  was  receiving  this  de- 
velopment, the  more  interesting  prophetic  class  also  arose  to  great 
importance.  The  prophets  would  preserve  the  popular  customs, 
in  so  far  as  possible,  and  would  keep  Jehovah  in  close  relations 
with  the  entire  life  of  his  people.  They  regarded  the  external 
forms  of  which  the  priests  made  so  much  as  simply  external  and 
indifferent.  The  prophets  first  hoped  that  the  reformation  of 
their  nation  would  secure  the  favor  of  God  and  turn  back  the 
invaders.     The   invaders   were   simply   chastisers   sent   by   God 

I  Deut.  12:6,  7,  17-19;    IS'-IQ,  20. 
»Numb.  18:18. 

3  Deut.  18:1,  6,  7,  8;    12:12,  18,  19,  etc. 

4  For  a  full  statement  of  diflFerences,  vide  Driver,  op.  cit.,  82  ff. 

s  For  a  full  discussion  of  Semitic  sacrifice  and  the  changes  through  which 
it  passed,  vide  Smith,  Religion  0}  the  Semites,  212  ff. 


l6  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

upon  the  unrighteous  nation.  The  ancient  belief  in  the  unity 
of  the  divine  will  with  the  political  interests  of  the  nation  could 
no  longer  be  entertained  by  the  prophets.  The  sinners  had  to 
be  destroyed  before  Jehovah  could  restore  the  nation  to  his  favor. 
No  assistance  could  be  given  to  the  guilty  rulers  who  had  been 
chiefly  instrumental  in  bringing  the  calamities  upon  the  land. 
Amos  and  Hosea,  and  Isaiah  in  his  earlier  prophecies,  were  con- 
fident that  the  sinners  could  be  punished,  that  the  good  could  be 
sifted  from  the  bad  when  the  chastiser  should  come.^  But  after 
Ephraim  was  carried  into  captivity  by  the  victorious  Assyrians, 
Isaiah  began  to  see  that  the  good  could  not  be  sifted  from  the  bad, 
should  the  whole  nation  be  carried  off.  He  therefore  took  the 
position  that  the  state  of  Judah  and  the  house  of  David  could 
not  be  utterly  overthrown.  He  became  a  statesman,  and  helped 
to  turn  away  the  danger. 

But  Isaiah  did  more.  He  formed  a  strong  prophetic  party  to 
keep  alive  the  true  faith  and  become  the  remnant  which  should 
save  the  people.  The  national  religion  could  not  have  been  pre- 
served, had  it  then  been  uprooted  from  Palestine;  Judah  would 
have  gone  the  way  of  Israel.  But  this  community  of  the  true  faith, 
freed  from  dependence  upon  the  priestly  ceremonies,  would  be 
able  to  hold  together  anywhere.  The  traditions  could  be  handed 
down,  supplemented  by  the  sacred  literature  of  which  the  begin- 
nings had  been  made;  and  so  the  people  could  become  more 
truly  the  worshipers  of  Jevovah  in  Babylon  than  they  had  ever 
been  at  home.  Finally,  Jeremiah  was  convinced  that  the  tem- 
porary destruction  of  the  nation  was  not  only  inevitable  but  de- 
sirable. He  saw  that  the  faith  of  Jehovah  could  then  survive  exile, 
being  handed  down  from  father  to  son  in  the  Babylonian  disper- 
sion in  a  way  that  would  have  been  impossible  in  the  Assyrian 
period  when  the  northern  Israelites  were  deported.' 

The  prophetic  movement  had  thus  come  to  the  position  that 
the  ethical  life  could  find  expression  and  the  worship  of  God 
be   maintained   under   any   political  conditions  whatever.     The 

»  Von  Orelli,  Old  Testament  Prophecy,  224,  231,  232;  Smith,  Prophets,  254-57. 
'  Smith,  Prophets,  256-64. 


CONTRIBUTION  OF  ANTIQUITY  TO  MODERN  SOCIETY  i? 

Strength  of  the  movement  consisted  m  this  freeing  of  the  ethical 
impulse.^  Individual  righteousness  thus  became  possible  as 
never  before  in  the  history  of  the  world.  Jeremiah  acknowledged 
that  the  men  of  his  day  were  unable  to  shake  off  the  bondage  to 
religious  solidarity;  but  he  was  led  to  reflect  as  much  upon  his 
own  as  upon  Israel's  relations  to  Jehovah,  and  could  look  forward 
to  the  time  when  each  should  be  brought  into  individual  relations 
with  the  deity.'  Jehovah  would  make  a  new  covenant  with 
Israel,  under  which,  without  interposition  of  priest  or  prophet, 
all  should  start  afresh  with  a  knowledge  of  God.^  This  concep- 
tion of  the  possibility  of  untrammeled  worship  was  the  peculiar 
contribution  of  the  prophets,  and  saved  Judah  from  utter  disin- 
tegration during  the  dispersion. 

We  have  seen  that  the  prophets  and  priests  were  practically 
united  in  the  Deuteronomic  period  and  that,  while  the  prophets 
evidently  inspired  the  Deuteronomic  code,  the  priests  found  it 
to  their  interest  to  enforce  it  as  far  as  possible.'*  Although  the 
priests  laid  the  emphasis  on  correct  ceremonial  worship,  while 
the  prophets  emphasized  the  importance  of  a  right  disposition, 
the  best  elements  of  both  classes,  the  men  who  were  really  trying 
to  solve  the  problem  of  the  shattered  social  consciousness,  seem 
to  have  worked  in  pretty  close  unison  until  the  exile. ^  When  that 
disaster  befell  Judah,  all  the  more  serious  men  had  become 
thoroughly  monotheistic.  While,  however,  some  found  relatively 
little  difficulty  in  preserving  their  faith  in  Jehovah  in  a  foreign 
land,  others  found  it  very  difficult  to  understand  how  Jehovah, 
who,  they  had  been  taught,  could  be  approached  only  at  Zion, 
could  now  be  worshiped  in  Babylon,  especially  after  the  temple 
at  Jerusalem  was  destroyed.  The  task  of  keeping  the  people 
true  to  Jehovah  then  fell  chiefly  to  the  priests.     The  fall  of  Jeru- 

I  Dewey,  ibid. 
»  Jer.  3i:29fF. 

3  Montefiore,  Religion  of  the  Ancient  Hebrews,  217-21. 

4  Uriah,  chief  priest  under  Hezekiah,  was  a  close  friend  of  Isaiah;  Jeremiah 
himself  belonged  to  the  preistly  class;  Hilkiah,  chief  priest  under  Josiah,  first 
sought  to  enforce  the  Deuteronomic  code. 

s   Montefiore,  op.  cit.,  175  ff. 


l8  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

salem  had  been  the  triumph  of  prophecy,  and  the  promises  of  a 
continuity  of  faith  were  the  chief  consolation  of  the  people  in  exile. 
But  the  priests  had  to  organize  the  faith  of  the  people  and  prepare 
them  for  the  return;  and  during  the  centuries  succeeding  the  exile, 
the  priestly  element  was  usually  needed  to  hold  the  people 
together.  WhUe  hoping  for  the  restoration  of  the  regular  worship, 
the  true  believers  had  to  learn  how  to  maintain  their  religious  separ- 
ateness  without  an  elaborate  ceremonial.  Such  rites  as  were  not 
dependent  upon  the  temple  received  a  new  development.  Circumci- 
sion, which  had  been  a  custom  without  particular  connection  with 
the  worship  of  Jehovah,  came  to  be  regarded  as  a  divine  ordinance 
distinguishing  the  faithful  from  all  other  races.  Prayer  came  to  sup- 
ply the  place  of  sacrifice.  The  prophetic  and  the  priestly  elements 
were  blended  in  Ezekiel,  but  the  outcome  of  the  exilic  experience 
was  a  development  of  belief  in  the  importance  of  regular  worship. 
Both  by  the  increased  emphasis  on  the  right  worship  in  so  far 
as  it  could  be  carried  out,  and  by  the  development  of  the  law  of 
ceremonial  cleanness,  a  growing  importance  came  to  be  given  to 
the  priestly  element  in  spite  of,  or  rather  because  of,  the  absence 
of  the  actual  temple  worship.^ 

The  reason  of  the  failure  of  the  prophetic  movement  was  its 
inability  to  provide  means  for  the  objectification  of  the  universal 
principle  which  it  stated.  It  could  state  the  essence  of  monothe- 
ism and  the  supreme  importance  of  the  ethical  impulse,  but  it 
could  give  no  working  formula  for  the  guidance  of  life.  It  rightly 
demanded  that  the  ethical  impulse  should  be  freed  from  the  con- 
ventional expression  which  belonged  to  an  earlier  age,  but  it 
could  not  tell  to  what  the  ethical  impulse  was  to  lead  after  it  was 
freed.  The  movement  succeeded  admirably  in  demolishing  a 
great  deal  of  accumulated  religious  rubbish,  but  it  showed  no  con- 
structive power.  Because  of  this  failure  the  priestly  element 
had  to  be  given  control.  The  prophets  had  said  that,  since  the 
old  social  habits  could  no  longer  function,  the  unification  of 
consciousness  was  to  be  found  in  the  harmony  of  the  ethical 
impulse  with  the  will  of  Jehovah.    To  this  the  priests  replied, 

*  Montefiore,  op.  cit.,  229  flF. 


CONTRIBUTION  OF  ANTIQUITY  TO  MODERN  SOCIETY  19 

that  the  satisfaction  could  be  found  in  the  continuation  of  the 
old  religious  habits.'  Something  of  the  ritual  could  be  main- 
tained under  any  form  of  political  control.  If  all  the  details  of 
the  old  service  were  not  possible,  they  could  go  so  far  as  possible 
and  wait  for  the  time  when  all  could  be  restored. 

Of  course,  this  position  amounted  to  a  reconstruction  of  the 
old  habits.  The  priestly  position  was  really  taken  under  the  in- 
fluence of  the  prophetic  movement.  It  was  a  compromise  which 
united  pure  and  absolute  monotheism  with  the  intense  particularism 
that  characterized  the  later  Jews.  The  result  was  the  formation 
of  a  church.  A  special  institution  was  needed  to  hold  the  people 
together  under  any  form  of  government,  while  the  priestly  posi- 
tion implied  a  unity  of  the  whole  social  hfe  with  the  will  of  Jeho- 
vah. The  continuity  of  the  social  life  was  thus  found,  not  in  the 
old  social  activities,  but  in  the  maintenance  of  peculiar  relations 
with  God.  This  was  the  development  of  the  little  company  gath- 
ered together  by  Isaiah,  the  remnant  that  should  be  saved. 

The  formation  of  this  little  community  was  a  new  thing  in  the  history  of 
religion.  Till  then  no  one  had  dreamed  of  a  fellowship  of  faith  dissociated 
from  all  national  forms It  was  the  birth  of  a  new  era  in  the  Old  Testa- 
ment religion,  for  it  was  the  birth  of  the  conception  of  the  church,  the  first 
step  in  the  emancipation  of  spiritual  religion  from  the  forms  of  political  life — 
a  step  not  less  significant  that  all  its  consequences  were  not  seen  till  centuries 
had  passed  away.  The  community  of  true  religion  and  the  political  commun- 
ity of  Israel  had  never  before  been  separated  even  in  thought;  now  they  stood 
side  by  side,  conscious  of  their  mutual  antagonism,  and  never  again  to  faU 
back  into  their  old  identity.* 

This  was  the  first  appearance  of  a  religious  community  apart  from 
the  activities  of  domestic  and  national  life.  Israel  thus  became  a 
monotheistic  church  which  could  maintain  its  existence  more  or 
less  completely  under  any  external  conditions  whatsoever.^ 

The  culmination  of  Judaism. — By  the  development  just  traced 
the  monotheistic  conception  was  deepened:  a  single  unified  prin- 
ciple was  asserted — the  unity   of  all  life  in  relation  with  God. 

*  Dewey,  ibid. 

'  Smith,  Prophets,  274,  275. 

3  Cf.  Smith  (G.  A.),  The  Book  of  Isaiah,  I,  119-30. 


20  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

But  God  was  conceived  as  manifesting  himself  only  in  a  parti- 
cular way  to  the  chosen  people.  Jehovah  had  been  universalized, 
but  this  could  be  known  only  to  the  people  of  the  old  national 
Jehovah.  There  was  an  irreconcilable  contradiction  between 
the  universal  monotheism,  on  the  one  hand,  and  the  single  religious 
community  with  its  particular  ceremonial,  on  the  other.  This 
contradiction  was  felt ;  and  it  was  held  that  the  ceremonial  religion 
was  only  protective  of  the  real  values  Israel  had  attained,  until 
God  should  more  fully  manifest  himself.  The  monotheistic 
idea  could  not  be  freed  from  its  old  embodiment,  because  it  was 
built  up  on  the  basis  of  the  old  popular  religion.  If  the  develop- 
ment had  culminated  in  the  conception  of  the  one  God,  instead  of 
the  one  Jehovah,  there  might  have  been  a  monotheistic  philos- 
ophy as  in  Greece,  but  there  could  not  have  been  a  monotheistic 
religion.^ 

The  contradiction  between  the  universal  principle  and  its 
particular  expression  came  to  consciousness  in  the  messianic 
idea  which  was  expressed  in  the  anonymous  literary  accumula- 
tions of  the  post-exilic  period.'  On  the  one  side,  there  was  to  be 
a  unification  of  the  ethical  consciousness;  on  the  other  there  was 
to  be  the  establishment  of  a  kingdom  in  which  the  contradiction 
would  be  no  longer  necessary.  The  ethical  teaching  of  Jesus 
was  an  attempt  to  realize  these  two  messianic  ideals — the  former 
the  contribution  of  the  prophets,  the  latter  of  the  priests.  The 
prophetic  movement,  as  we  have  seen,  had  broken  down  because 
its  universal  ethical  principle  was  given  no  means  of  objectifica- 
tion;  whereas,  the  priestly  movement  had  failed  because  a  great 
gap  was  left  between  the  particulars  of  life  and  the  universal 
principle  represented  by  law,  and  the  objectification  secured 
remained  purely  formal.  The  post-exilic  movement  was  but 
a  compromise  between  these  two.  Jesus,  however,  sought  to 
reconcile  the  ideas  underlying  both  movements  by  getting  a  gen- 
eralization which  would  explain  the  principle  on  which  each  had 
proceeded.  3 

'  Montefiore,  op.  cit.,  410  ff. 
•  '  Ibid.,  401  fif.  3  Dewey,  ibid. 


CONTRIBUTION  OF  ANTIQUITY  TO  MODERN  SOCIETY  21 

On  the  prophetic  side  Jesus  held  that  the  obedience  to  God 
was  a  state  of  the  will  and  did  not  consist  in  external  acts.  If 
the  moral  life  was  not  only  within  but  consisted  in  a  willingness 
of  the  soul  rather  than  an  understanding,  every  individual  could 
realize  it.  The  aristocratic  system  of  the  Socratic  school  was 
unnecessary,  for  every  man,  even  the  most  ignorant,  could  be 
wilHng  to  do  God's  will.  On  the  priestly  side,  Jesus  developed 
the  conception  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  the  community  within 
which  the  right  attitude,  faith,  could  find  expression.  The  truth 
underlying  the  priestly  movement  was  that  the  moral  motive  must 
find  expression.  It  was  the  social  principle — the  consciousness 
of  the  necessity  of  organic,  institutional  expression  of  the  moral 
impulse — for  which  the  priestly  movement  had  stood;  while  the 
prophetic  movement  had  stood  for  the  principle  of  individuality. 
Jesus  made  the  disposition  and  the  expression  of  the  disposition 
in  and  through  a  universal  society  reciprocally  necessary  and 
thus  gave   an  ultimate  ethical  statement.* 

This  assertion  of  the  essential  value  of  the  individual  and  of 
the  identity  of  the  interests  of  the  individual  and  the  interests  of 
the  whole  society  was  a  sublime  ethical  generalization;  but  be- 
cause it  was  a  universal  statement  and  was  not  made  in  terms  of 
any  existing  society,  it  had  to  be  purely  formal.  The  interests 
of  the  individual  and  the  interests  of  society  were  not  identical; 
and  the  attempt  to  act  as  if  they  were  led  to  the  tragedy  in  the  life 
of  Jesus.  With  the  early  Christians  the  statement  of  the  princi- 
ple was  the  all-important  thing;  but  in  time  it  was  found  that 
the  universal  had  to  be  reahzed  in  the  particular.  It  was  the 
relation  of  the  particular  to  the  universal  that  became  the  chief 
practical,  as  it  was  the  chief  theoretical  problem  of  the  Middle 
Ages.     This,  however,  is  a  matter  for  further  consideration. 

THE  CONTRIBUTION  OF  GREECE 

To  understand  the  nature  of  the  contribution  of  the  Hellenes, 
it  is  necessary  to  examine  the  development  of  their  technical  arts 
and  the  institution  of  the  city-state.     These  two  were  recipro- 

«  Dewey,  ibid.     This  paragraph  is  practically  a  condensed  quotation. 


22  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

cally  cause  and  effect ;  and  so  the  art  consciousness  and  the  politi- 
cal conceptions  may  be  studied  together.  The  peculiar  nature 
of  the  Greek  development  was  due  to  geographical  conditions 
and  to  the  fact  that  the  Greeks  were  able  to  appropriate  so  easily 
the  results  of  earlier  civilizations.  Except  for  these  circum- 
stances, there  is  no  reason  for  believing  that  they  would  have  had 
much  more  importance  than  many  other  Aryan  tribes. 

The  earlier  internal  development  of  Greece. — The  geographical 
influences  made  themselves  felt  before  the  people  came  into  con- 
tact with  older  civilizations.  The  country  of  the  Hellenes,  whether 
insular  or  mainland,  was  such  that  no  great  mass  of  humanity 
could  be  concentrated  in  any  one  section.  On  the  mainland  the 
plains  are  narrow  spaces  hemmed  in  by  the  hills  which  ascend  to 
the  peaks.  But  the  sea  was  always  near  at  hand,  and  afforded 
a  means  of  outlet  and  of  intercommunication.  Thus  a  seclusion 
of  the  tribal  home  was  associated  with  a  means  of  intercourse  be- 
tween the  tribes.  These  two  conditions  had  much  to  do  with 
the  immediate  political  development  and  with  the  development 
of  the  intellectual  and  imaginative  powers  of  the  people. 

The  lonians,  who  first  settled  along  the  Asiatic  coast,  early 
learned  the  art  of  navigation  and  spread  over  the  neighboring 
coasts,  first  as  pirates,  later  as  permanent  settlers.  The  people 
were  isolated  and  crowded  together  in  small  groups,  yet  the  open 
sea  brought  the  various  small  groups  into  relations  with  one  an- 
other. The  ancient  tribal  organization  of  a  nom'kdic  people  had 
to  break  down  under  these  circumstances,  and  the  local  clans  were 
subordinated  to  the  "city"  organization.  The  latter  was  not  at 
first  a  town  into  which  all  the  people  were  gathered ;  it  was  simply 
the  organization  of  the  whole  of  a  small  community  about  the 
center  where  were  located  the  sanctuary  and  other  public  build- 
ings used  for  the  purposes  of  the  community  life.^  The  condi- 
tions of  confinement  within  narrow  limits  led  to  the  break-down 
of  the  patriarchal  family  with  its  blood-feuds  and  narrow  exclu- 
siveness.  The  tribes  and  phratries,  survivals  of  an  older  system, 
were  strictly  subordinated  in  the  interests  of  the  city.    This  isola- 

I  Fustel  de  Coulanges,  The  Ancient  City,  167-87,  231-38,  293-98. 


CONTRIBUTION  OF  ANTIQUITY  TO  MODERN  SOCIETY  23 

tion  of  the  small  city,  together  with  the  constant  contact  with 
other  communities,  brought  to  consciousness  the  value  of  the  com- 
munity. The  interest  of  the  people  centered  in  the  community 
rather  than  in  the  immediate  domestic  and  industrial  pursuits. 
Association  with  other  communities  at  the  shrines  and  in  the  games 
intensified  this  appreciation  of  the  city-state.  Later  on,  this  appre- 
ciation was  turned  into  intellectual  concepts  which  served  as  the 
basis  of  wider  political  organization. 

The  political  organization  followed,  of  course,  the  industrial 
organization.  In  the  earliest  period,  as  shown  in  Homer,  the 
pastoral  organization  was  still  in  existence.  The  people  were 
free,  but  the  great  chieftains  had  come  to  constitute  an  aristoc- 
racy. The  relatively  small  number  of  slaves  were  captives  in 
battle,  and  were  of  no  economic  importance  except  as  domestic 
drudges  or  as  assistants  to  their  masters  in  common  labors.' 
There  was  scarcely  division  of  labor  sufficient  to  call  for  a  separate 
artisan  class,  much  less  for  a  servile  class.  Necessary  industries 
were  carried  on  in  the  household,  and  the  master  would  co-operate 
with  the  artisan  or  servant.  One  son  of  Priam  prepared  ma- 
terials for  making  wagons;  another,  Paris,  worked  with  the 
skilled  carpenters  on  his  own  dwelling;  and  Odysseus  made  his 
bedstead  and  was  skilled  in  ship-building.'  There  was  no  dis- 
grace attached  to  manual  labor  during  this  period. 

With  the  final  settlement  in  their  historical  land,  the  agricul- 
tural organization  soon  came  to  overshadow  the  pastoral.  But 
the  Greek  lands  could  never  yield  very  bountiful  harvests;  so  no 
massing  of  humanity  such  as  took  place  in  the  Nile  and  Meso- 
potamian  valleys  could  ever  take  place  in  Greece.  When  the 
population  began  to  press  upon  the  food  supply,  grain  had  to  be 
imported  from  other  countries,  the  people  turning  to  other  indus- 
tries; but  the  population  could  increase  only  as  conmierce  was 
built  up  by  the  people  themselves.  This  prevented  the  destruc- 
tion of  the  city  organization.  But  during  the  agricultural  period, 
before  the  pressure  of  population  had  led  to  any  considerable  exten- 

»  Wallon,  Histoire  de  I'esclavage  dans  I'antiquite,  I,  65  ff. 
'  Iliad,  xxi,  37;  vi,  314;  Odyssey,  xdii,  180  ff.;  v,  243  ff.,  etc. 


84  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

sion  of  commerce,  the  chief  families  became  a  land-holding  aristoc- 
racy, the  smaller  cultivators  becoming  dependent  upon  them  al- 
most as  serfs.  The  conquered  population  fell  entirely  into  this 
position.  These,  however,  were  hardly  the  property  of  the  land- 
holder, but  were  attached  to  the  soil.*  The  aristocracy  of  land- 
owners looked  down  upon  the  agricultural  laborers  and  also  upon 
the  few  artisans  who  were  required  for  domestic  industries.  The 
great  landholders  controlled  industry  without  taking  part  in  it 
themselves.  In  some  places,  as  Sparta,  the  workers  were  en- 
tirely excluded  from  the  rights  of  citizens;  in  others,  as  Thebes, 
one  who  had  been  free  from  industrial  pursuits  for  ten  years 
might  hold  office;  in  others,  as  Aristotle  says,  it  was  possible  for 
an  artisan  to  be  both  wealthy  and  a  citizen.  In  Athens  the  agra- 
rian question  became  so  pressing  that  the  oligarchy  was  unable 
to  put  down  the  mutinies,  and  called  in  Solon  to  revise  the  laws. 

The  next  stage  in  Greek  social  development  was  that  in  which 
the  industrial  classes  began  to  get  control.  Here  we  begin  to  find 
the  bearing  of  the  industrial  development  and  of  the  art  conscious- 
ness upon  the  general  social  life  of  the  Hellenes.  From  this  point 
their  civilization  begins  to  have  its  peculiar  value.  The  peculiar 
nature  of  the  technical  and  artistic  development  was  due  to  the 
imaginative  powers  of  the  Greeks  and  to  their  early  contact  with 
advanced  civilizations. 

Leaving  the  latter  influence  for  further  consideration,  some 
account  must  be  given  of  the  mental  characteristics  with  which 
the  Greeks  were  endowed  when  this  contact  came.  These  were 
due  in  part  to  geographical  conditions  and  in  part  to  the  social 
life  which,  as  shown  above,  was  largely  determined  by  those  con- 
ditions. Their  imaginative  powers  were  probably  due  less  to  the 
presence  of  mountain  and  sea  than  to  the  social  conditions  which 
the  physical  environment  produced.  The  artistic  temperament 
was  further  developed  by  the  appropriation  of  the  arts  from  other 
peoples;  but  had  it  not  been  for  the  racial  or  specially  developed 
imaginative  powers  of  the  Greeks,  there  could  have  been  no  highly 
developed  art.    Witness  here  the  Phoenicians. 

»  Buchsenschutz,  Besitz    und  Erwerb  im  griechischen  AUerthume,  127,  154; 
Wallon,  op,  cit.,  I,  94-104;'  Curtitis,  History  of  Greece,  I,  317-21. 


CONTRIBUTION  OF  ANTIQUITY  TO  MODERN  SOCIETY  2$ 

Aside  from  the  possible  direct  influences  of  the  physical  en- 
vironment, the  mental  characteristics  of  the  Greeks  may  be  partly 
explained  by  the  nature  of  their  occupations.  The  pastoral  hfe 
was  never  entirely  abandoned;  the  agricultural  hfe  could  never 
be  reduced  to  the  dead  monotony  which  prevailed  in  the  fertile 
Nile  region;  the  commercial  activity  became  very  great  in  time, 
but  not  soon  enough  to  make  the  Greeks  a  race  of  traders.  Here, 
then,  was  a  diversity  which  could  beneficially  influence  the  life  of 
a  people  situated  as  the  Greeks  were.  Again,  their  mental  pecu- 
liarities may  be  partly  explained  by  the  character  and  organiza- 
tion of  the  social  hfe.  It  was  impossible  for  the  Greeks  to  become 
a  conglomerate  nation;  it  was  equally  impossible  for  them  to 
Uve  in  isolation.  Each  tribe  profited  by  the  experience  of  all 
the  others.  On  this  account  the  individual  was  never  swallowed 
up  beyond  recovery  in  his  own  tribe.  In  the  intercourse  of  the 
representatives  of  the  various  tribes  at  the  sacred  places,  and  more 
particularly  in  the  competition  of  the  games,  the  individuality  of 
the  champions  was  brought  out,  at  the  same  time  that  the  conscious- 
ness of  the  interests  of  their  respective  states  was  emphasized. 
In  the  rehgious  festivals  and  gymnastic  contests  art  ideals  first 
came  to  consciousness.  Then,  when  the  technical  skill  was  ac- 
quired, the  plastic  way  of  looking  at  things  and  the  admiration  of 
the  attitudes  assumed  in  the  dances  and  gymnastics  enabled  them 
to  enter  quickly  upon  their  career  as  artists. 

The  explanation  here  given  of  the  causes  of  the  Greek  spirit  is 
far  from  complete.  Doubtless  many  forces  were  shaping  the 
Greek  mind  long  before  it  was  brought  under  the  influences  men- 
tioned. These,  however,  were  probably  the  most  important  of 
the  shaping  influences.  With  the  appropriation  of  the  technical 
skill  which  enabled  them  to  express  their  pecuhar  spirit,  the 
Greeks  immediately  took  their  places  as  leaders  of  civilization. 
The  tribes  of  the  Homeric  period  were  probably  in  about  the 
same  stage  of  culture  as  some  of  the  more  advanced  Pacific  island- 
ers when  first  visited  by  white  men ;  yet  they  were  superior  in  many 
respects  to  the  Egyptians  and  Chaldasans  who  were  then  enjoy- 
ing such  a  high  culture.    Their  imaginative  power  and  freedom 


a6  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

of  spirit  were  bound  to  work  out  tremendous  results,  provided 
the  technical  skill  which  the  older  peoples  had  acquired  could  be 
learned  without  shriveling  up  this  latent  power.  But  this  could 
never  have  been  done,  this  spirit  could  never  have  got  control  of  its 
physical  environment  as  it  did,  had  it  not  been  shown  the  way 
by  those  older  civilizations. 

The  influence  of  Egypt  and  Phoenicia. — In  order  to  understand 
how  a  technique  was  not  only  acquired  but  was  kept  free,  it  will 
be  necessary  to  trace  the  steps  by  which  technical  skill  developed 
from  the  beginning  and  the  peculiar  circumstances  connected 
with  its  transference  to  the  Greeks.^  The  significance  of  this 
earlier  development  is  all  the  more  marked  when  we  remember 
that  the  Greeks  of  the  time  of  Pericles  were  farther  removed  from 
the  beginnnings  of  oriental  culture  than  from  the  present  time. 

The  Greeks  frankly  admitted  that  they  had  learned  art,  science, 
and  industry  from  the  Egyptians;  and,  indeed,  did  not  them- 
selves realize  what  a  tremendous  advance  they  had  made  beyond 
their  teachers.  They  could  not  have  made  this  advance,  had  not 
considerable  technical  development  gone  on  among  them,  along 
with  the  development  of  self-reliance  and  a  capacity  for  self- 
government.  They  were  able,  even  better  than  the  Phoenicians, 
to  learn  the  method  of  the  Egyptians,  leaving  the  cumbrous  cus- 
toms of  the  latter  aside.  This  was  but  natural,  since  the  Egyp- 
tian customs  had  no  sacredness  to  the  foreigners  who  observed 
them.  Hence,  the  Phoenicians  abstracted  the  principles  of  the 
alphabet  from  the  Egyptian  system,  discarding  the  clumsy  hier- 
oglyphs and  determinatives  which  seemed  so  necessary  to  the  con- 
servative inventors;  while  the  Greeks  abstracted  the  principles 
of  geometry  from  the  rule-of-thumb  methods  of  triangulation  and 
mensuration  employed  by  the  surveyors  of  the  Nile  region. 

I  The  following  discussion  is  intended  both  to  show  the  actual  influence  of 
Egypt  on  Greece,  and  to  explain  the  nature  of  the  development  of  technique  and 
its  influence  on  social  conditions.  For  the  former  point,  it  might  be  suflScient 
simply  to  state  some  of  the  results  of  Egyptian  culture  appropriated  by  the  Greeks; 
but  since  the  process  is  to  be  traced  in  dealing  with  all  western  civilization,  light 
can  be  thrown  on  all  our  later  discussion  by  giving  the  Egyptian  development  a 
fairly  complete  treatment. 


CONTRIBUTION  OF  ANTIQUITY  TO  MODERN  SOCIETY  27 

Habits  of  regular  industry  do  not  develop  spontaneously  in 
man.  They  were  attained  in  Eygpt  and  Chaldaea  long  before 
the  Hellenes  began  their  national  life;  but  they  were  secured 
either  through  the  despotic  power  of  the  ruler  over  the  people,  or 
through  the  control  of  industrial  life  by  the  consecrated  institu- 
tions of  caste. ^  The  concentration  of  large  populations  which 
made  industrial  development  possible  was,  of  course,  conditioned 
upon  the  fertility  of  the  soil  upon  which  some  vigorous  people 
might  enter.  The  rich  soil  and  mild  climate  of  the  Nile  and 
Mesopotamian  valley  made  those  sections  the  cradles  of  civilization. 
The  soil  was  so  rich  and  so  easily  worked  that  almost  no  agricul- 
tural labor  was  required,  and  where  the  soil  needed  breaking 
up,  the  simple  Egyptian  hoe  was  sufficient.^  The  people  who 
came  into  the  Nile  valley  were  savages  who  entered  at  once  upon 
the  agricultural  life  without  passing  through  the  nomadic  stage 
which  characterized  all  Aryan  and  Semitic  peoples.  The  prac- 
tice of  tracing  the  descent  in  the  female  line,  which  long  prevailed 
in  Egypt,  and  the  consecration  of  girls  of  noble  families  to  the 
service  of  Ammon  and  lives  of  immorality,  could  not  exist  among 
a  people  who  had  passed  through  the  pastoral  stage.^  The 
legendary  history  also  indicates  that  the  people  had  been  canni- 
bals, and,  though  living  in  part  on  vegetable  food,  did  not  know 
how  to  cultivate  the  soil.  Evidently  a  hunting  people  had  been 
driven  into  the  narrow  district,  and,  finding  means  of  egress  dif- 
ficult and  the  game  supply  limited,  had  been  obliged  to  turn  its 
attention  to  the  cultivation  of  the  edible  grasses  which  were  already 
flourishing  in  the  rich  valley.  Everything  points  to  the  fact  that 
the  people  had  emerged  from  a  savage  state  at  a  period  long  be- 
fore their  first  written  records,  and  had  reconstructed  their  social 
customs  and  religion  on  the  basis  of  agricultural  life. 

The  people  entered  naturally  upon  agriculture,  though  ad- 
vance must  have  been  by  slow  stages,  by  cut-and-try  methods, 
and  without  any  general  conception  of  the  technique  of  the  in- 

I  Grote,  History  0}  Greece,  III,  chap,  xix,  passim. 
'  Cf.  Maspero,  The  Dawn  of  Civilization,  66,  67. 
3  Lippert,  Kulturgeschichte  der  Menschheit,  II,  6  ff. 


a8  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

dustry.  But  population  was  bound  to  increase  with  the  increase 
of  the  food  supply;  and  circumstances  soon  made  necessary 
a  working  co-operation  among  the  people.  This  was  brought 
about  by  the  methods  of  irrigation.  Cultivation  was  easy  near 
the  river  and  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  natural  reservoirs  formed 
in  depressions  after  the  subsidence  of  the  Nile.  Irrigation  in  these 
regions  was  carried  on  for  countless  generations  before  the  kings 
of  the  historic  period  appeared.  The  work  began  at  various 
points  spontaneously.  The  canals  would  be  prolonged  until 
they  met  others,  and  the  system  would  have  to  be  improved  with 
the  demands  of  an  ever-increasing  population.  The  men  of  a 
favored  district  would  utilize  the  water  to  suit  their  own  needs, 
not  considering  whether  they  were  injuring  their  neighbors  by  de- 
priving them  of  a  supply  or  by  flooding  them.  Perpetual  strife 
resulted,  until  it  became  imperative  that  the  system  of  distribu- 
tion should  be  co-ordinated.  The  Nile  thus  determined  the 
political,  as  well  as  the  industrial,  constitution  of  Egypt.  ^  The 
system  of  co-ordination  secured  was  like  that  which  always  arises 
when  some  men  are  dependent  on  the  mercy  of  their  more  fortu- 
nate fellows:  those  who  held  the  lands  nearest  to  the  water  be- 
came a  ruling  nobility,  permittting  water  to  descend  to  others 
on  condition  that  the  latter  should  pass  under  their  control. 

The  earlier  industrial  development  had  consisted  in  the  gradual 
development  of  well-adapted  habits  in  a  favorable  environment. 
Now,  however,  sufficient  advance  had  been  made  in  social  organ- 
ization to  permit  of  the  manipulation  of  the  technical  skill  of  the 
masses  by  those  who  had  arisen  to  powerful  positions.  The  co- 
ordination of  the  systems  of  irrigation  meant  the  putting  of  the 
means  of  control  of  agriculture  in  the  hands  of  a  ruling  class. 
The  lands  held  by  the  government  were  of  vast  extent,  while 
most  of  the  rest  were  held  by  the  nobles  as  fiefs.  Thus  the  prod- 
ucts of  the  soil — the  real  wealth  of  Egypt  at  all  times — ^passed 
into  the  hands  of  the  ruling  class,  while  the  technique  of  the 
industry  was  no  longer  controlled  by  the  workmen  themselves. 
This  was  the  essence  of  slavery,  and  it  was  only  a  question  of  time 

X  Maspero,  op.  cit.,  70. 


CONTRIBUTION  OF  ANTIQUITY  TO  MODERN  SOCIETY  29 

when  the  system  should  become  extensive  and  slave  hunts  begin. 
These  latter  began  about  the  thirty-ninth  century,  b.  c.  Before 
that  time,  the  condition  of  the  free  peasants  must  have  been  sink- 
ing into  virtual  slavery,  but  no  extensive  employment  of  foreign 
slaves  had  begun.  Wars  had  been  few,  and  the  tribes  on  the  bor- 
der were  not  numerous.  But  wealth  had  been  increasing,  and 
hence  some  men  were  becoming  very  powerful;  and  the  demand 
for  labor  was  becoming  pressing.  Warlike  expeditions  were  un- 
dertaken, and  slaves  were  brought  back.^  Slave  hunts  became 
more  numerous,  and  by  the  time  the  tombs  of  the  Old  Empire 
were  erected,  the  free  peasants  had  practically  disappeared.' 
With  the  introduction  of  slavery  on  a  large  scale  the  condition 
of  the  original  peasants  became  infinitely  worse.  They  were 
not  mere  chattels,  but  their  position  as  tenants  of  the  Pharaoh 
was  essentially  servile.  ^ 

The  surplus  of  agricultural  products  naturally  led  to  the  de- 
velopment of  many  other  industries.  Advance  was  slow  but 
steady.  The  Egyptians  were  always  afraid  of  losing  what  they 
had  gained;  hence  they  clung  to  methods  after  they  had  once 
been  learned,  and  preserved  ancient  forms  after  they  had  really 
become  able  to  improve  upon  them.  That  which  did  most  to 
advance  their  higher  artistic  production — and  though  extractive 
industries  were  the  basis  of  Egypt's  greatness,  the  work  of  her 
artisans  had  the  more  important  influence  on  Greek  civilization — 
was  their  belief  concerning  the  future  life.  With  them  the  soul 
was  immortal,  but  its  immortality  depended  in  some  way  on  the 
body.  Without  the  body  the  soul  might  become  dissipated  and 
lose  its  personality.  Therefore  the  art  of  the  embalmer  became 
of  great  importance.  But  with  them,  as  with  other  more  primitive 
peoples,  everything  had  a  soul  whose  persistence  depended  upon 
the  preservation  of  the  object.     The  soul  of  the  deceased  man 

^  Rawlinson,  Ancient  Egypt,  1,  chap,  xi,  passim. 

'  Erman,  Life  in  Ancient  Egypt,  99-101. 

3  It  is  true,  however,  that  the  introduction  of  slavery  on  a  large  scale  furnished 
laborers  for  the  mines,  and  thus  freed  the  peasants  from  forced  labor  of  that  sort 
Cf.  Maspero,  Dawn  0}  Civilization,  356,  421. 


30  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

had  to  subsist  on  the  souls  of  viands  and  to  find  its  enjoyment 
in  the  souls  of  things  which  gave  enjoyment  in  this  life.  The 
preservation  of  all  these  souls  was  best  secured  by  the  preserva- 
tion of  the  actual  bodies;  but  to  make  assurance  doubly  sure 
portrait  bas-reliefs  and  statues,  whose  souls  would  be  as  real  as 
those  of  the  real  bodies  of  which  they  were  replicas,  were  also  pro- 
vided, so  that  if  the  body  should  be  destroyed,  the  soul  could 
maintain  its  personality.  If  a  man's  wealth  permitted,  he 
would  have  many  such  images  of  himself,  his  favorite  scenes,  and 
all  that  he  valued  most  on  earth  placed  in  his  ♦omb.  All  of  this 
meant  a  tremendous  statue-making  industry;  and  the  fact  that 
likenesses  were  wanted  led  to  a  constant  improvement  in  the  techni- 
cal skill  of  the  sculptors.  It  prevented,  however,  any  effort  at 
idealization,  such  as  raised  Greek  art  to  so  great  a  height ;  for  when 
a  man's  soul  depended  upon  the  faithfulness  of  the  likeness,  he 
could  not  venture  to  have  the  latter  flatter  him  unduly.  The  tombs 
and  pyramids  built  for  the  reception  of  these  images,  the  elabo- 
rate temples  required  by  the  powerful  priesthood,  the  residences  of 
the  luxurious  nobles,  and  the  public  works  of  the  government, 
the  monopolistic  owner  of  the  products  of  the  soil — all  called  for 
skill  and  numbers  in  the  building  trades  and  in  the  industries 
concerned  in  the  ornamentation  of  the  edifices.  Innumerable 
minor  industries  were  readily  added  to  these,  and  there  was  no 
reason  why  the  Egyptians  should  not  enjoy  every  luxury  known 
to  the  ancient  world.  The  growing  luxury,  increased  still  further 
by  the  passion  of  the  Theban  kings  for  great  public  works,  had 
much  to  do  with  the  extension  of  slavery,  for  thus  the  industries 
could  be  expanded  and  the  works  carried  forward  without  dis- 
turbing the  labor  market. 

The  advance  was  always  by  very  slow  stages,  and  a  process 
once  introduced  tended  to  persist  unchanged.  The  method  or 
technique  was  never  freed  from  the  earher  stages  through  which 
it  had  passed.  Just  as  the  scribes,  with  all  their  speed  and  skill, 
could  never  pass  entirely  from  picture  writing  to  an  alphabet, 
even  though  an  alphabet  really  existed  within  their  own  system, 
so  all  other  arts  were  burdened  with  the  survivals  of  their  own 


CONTRIBUTION  OF  ANTIQUITY  TO  MODERN  SOCIETY  31 

past.  Indeed,  it  is  noticeable  that  the  later  buildings  and  statues 
are  more  conventional  than  the  earlier.  The  art  which  the 
Greeks  studied  was  inferior  to  that  which  was  then  buried  under 
the  sands  of  ages  and  in  the  depths  of  cities  of  the  dead.  The 
method  of  social  control  of  the  industrial  and  artistic  processes  had 
destroyed  the  earlier  invention  and  creative  power.  There  was 
a  constant  advance  in  technical  accuracy,  for  that  could  go  on 
under  servile  conditions;  but  when  the  Greeks  began  to  visit 
Egypt  about  the  middle  of  the  seventh  century,  B.  c,  the  power 
of  initiation  and  freedom  was  gone.^  The  conservatism  of  the 
Egyptians  had  been  able  to  produce  for  them  a  number  of  type 
forms  of  architecture  and  sculpture  which  may  have  been  of  more 
value  to  the  Greeks  than  living  examples  of  inventive  genius. 
The  conservative  tendency  of  the  Egyptians  was  further  strength- 
ened by  their  isolation.  Egypt  was  a  self-sufficient  country. 
Almost  all  necessary  raw  materials  were  found  within  the  country; 
industrial  arts  of  almost  every  sort  were  developed  under  the  Old 
Empire,  before  other  peoples  had  begun  their  industries.  The 
mountains  and  deserts  served  to  protect  the  country  from  inva- 
sions, and  gave  security  for  peaceful  occupations;  so  that  there 
was  little  incentive  to  carry  on  intercourse  with  other  peoples.' 
There  was  thus  every  reason  for  the  feeling  that  methods  which 
had  been  developed  in  Egypt  in  the  past  were  perfect.  And  since 
many  of  these  had  received  rehgious  consecration,  further  improve- 
ment was  not  conceivable. 

Furthermore,  since  these  methods  were  stationary,  they  could 
be  controlled  by  superiors.  No  premium  had  to  be  placed  upon 
individual  initiative.  The  secrets  of  the  processes  could  be  mas- 
tered by  outsiders,  and  green  hands  could  be  initiated  by  the 
controlling  agents.  This  disadvantage  of  the  laborer  was  further 
accentuated  by  the  fact  that  most  of  the  workmen  had  no  control 
over  the  product  of  their  labors.  The  products  of  the  soil,  save 
enough  for  bare  subsistence,  passed  directly  into  the  hands  of 
the  ruHng  classes.    The  great  buildings  were,  of  course,  directly 

I  Perrot  and  Chipiez,  History  of  Art  in  Primitive  Greece,  I,  17. 

'  Cunningham,  An  Essay  on  Western  Civilization  in  its  Economic  Aspects,  14. 


32  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

constructed  by  the  agents  of  the  persons  who  were  to  use  them. 
The  minor  industries  were  not  so  narrowly  bound  down,  but 
having  to  do  chiefly  with  luxuries,  furnished  little  for  the  con- 
sumption of  the  laborers.  The  extension  of  slavery,  which  natur- 
ally came  with  the  growth  of  the  militant  spirit,  left  the  ordinary 
free  peasants  or  artisans  in  a  pitiable  condition.  They  were 
uniformly  ill  paid  and  were  subject  to  corporal  punishment  by 
government  agents.^  The  artisans  were  divided  into  companies 
after  the  model  of  the  army.  The  Theban  dynasty  was  initiated 
by  arms  when  the  Hyksos  were  overthrown,  and  was  maintained 
by  arms.  All  large  industries  were  organized  on  the  plan  of  the 
army,  and  great  companies  of  slaves  were  kept  for  the  public 
works."  The  workmen  were  considered  only  en  masse.  By  this 
organization  and  command  of  human  strength,  the  Egyptians  were 
enabled  to  accomplish  works  which  were  impossible  under  any 
other  conditions  at  that  time. 

In  order,  however,  that  the  labor  of  the  masses  could  be  thus 
directed  and  controlled,  there  had  to  be  a  class  of  artists  and 
superintendents  as  much  higher  than  the  rank  and  file  of  the 
industrial  army  as  the  generals  were  above  the  common  soldiers. 
These  were  the  men  of  genius  or  executive  abiUty  whose  services 
were  indispensable  for  the  social  control  of  industry,  and  who 
therefore  received  monopoly  compensation.  The  details  of  the 
work  of  the  great  buildings  could  be  left  to  the  ordinary  semi-free 
or  servile  workman;  but  the  man  who  understood  the  whole  plan 
and  could  direct  the  whole  process  was  held  in  high  esteem  and 
might  even  be  a  noble.  The  conventional  figures  of  gods  and 
demi-gods  could  be  produced  mechanically  by  men  of  no  artistic 
ability,  though  possessing  technical  skill;  but  the  great  portrait 
statues  were  the  work  of  individual  artists  of  considerable  talent, 

I  Ennan,  Life,  chap,  xvii,  passim;  Rawlinson,  Ancient  Egypt,  Vol.  I,  chap, 
xi,  passim. 

»  Ennan,  he.  cit.  Instances  of  strikes  are  cited  hy  Erman,  which  show  that 
the  enforced  association  of  the  artisans  made  it  possible  for  them  to  co-operate 
for  their  mutual  benefit  when  their  rations  were  too  long  delayed  through  "red 
tape"  and  official  carelessness.  But  these  strikes  never  changed  the  general 
condition  of  the  industry;   they  simply  prevented  the  laborers  from  starving. 


CONTRIBUTION  OF  ANTIQUITY  TO  MODERN  SOCIETY  33 

whose  ability  was  scarce  and  well  rewarded.  So  it  was  with 
nearly  all  professions  and  trades.  "^  The  peasant-serfs,  whose 
industry  produced  the  greater  part  of  the  wealth  of  the  nation, 
were  completely  under  the  control  of  the  higher  powers. 

Now  when  the  art  and  industry  of  Egypt  were  carried  over  to 
other  peoples,  two  changes  would  necessarily  take  place.  First, 
the  essentials  only  would  be  transferred,  the  conventionalities 
both  of  product  and  method  which  had  been  carried  on  for  cen- 
turies, thereby  becoming  sacred  to  the  Egyptians,  being  wholly 
discarded  by  those  for  whom  they  had  no  sacredness.  Secondly, 
those  who  were  able  to  learn  from  the  Egyptians  and  apply  the 
methods  under  new  conditions  would  have  to  be  freed  from  social 
control.  Slavery  might  afterward  be  introduced;  but  the  technique 
of  industry  would  at  first  be  so  completely  under  the  control  of 
the  artisans  and  traders  that  society  would  have  to  pay  well  for 
their  services.  This  is  what  actually  took  place  in  both  Phoenicia 
and  Greece.  A  trading  aristocracy  arose  in  both  places.  Whether 
the  whole  industrial  population  should  be  permanently  elevated 
would  depend  upon  the  control  of  the  product  as  well  as  the 
technique  of  industry.  In  no  ancient  society  did  the  product  pass 
under  the  control  of  the  laborers;  hence  only  the  initiators  and 
leaders  of  industry  occupied  high  position. 

The  contribution  of  Phcenicia  to  the  Greek  development  did 
not  differ  greatly  in  nature  from  the  appropriation  which  the 
Greeks  made  directly  from  Egypt.  The  first  contact  of  the 
Greeks  with  civilization  was  through  the  Phoenicians.  It  was 
only  after  the  former  had  made  considerable  advance  in  art  and 
industry  that  they  went  to  Egypt  and  learned  vastly  more  than 
their  teachers  ever  could  learn.  The  Phoenicians  had  been  forced 
to  become  seamen  by  the  character  of  their  habitat.  When  the 
increase  of  population  began  to  press  upon  their  scant  food  sup- 
ply, they  turned  their  maritime  habits,  their  fisheries,  and  their 
salterns  to  account  in  trading.  Thus  Phoenicia  became  the 
channel  through  which  the  civilization  of  Egypt  and  Chaldaea 

»  Rawlinson,  op.  cit.,  I,  493-548. 


34  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

was  carried  to  Europe.''  She  had  no  opportunity  to  develop 
civilization  from  the  bottom,  but  she  could  pick  out  those  ele- 
ments of  older  civilizations  for  which  other  peoples  were  willing 
to  pay.  Her  commerce  was  esssentially  one  of  exploitation,  but 
she  none  the  less  assisted  in  the  development  of  Greece.  She 
invented  practically  nothing,  but  so  keenly  picked  out  the  essen- 
tial from  the  valueless  from  among  the  inventions  of  others  that 
she  actually  made  new  contributions  to  the  world.  She  controlled 
the  whole  Mediterranean  trade  of  the  Egyptians,  and  soon  learned 
to  manufacture  in  her  own  factories  goods  which  better  satisfied 
the  demands  of  both  her  own  luxurious  citizens  and  her  semi- 
barbarous  customers,  than  did  those  brought  from  Egypt.  She 
furnished  the  architects  and  master- workmen  to  build  the  temple 
of  Jehovah  at  Jerusalem,  and  sent  forth  her  goddess  Astarte  to 
become  the  Aphrodite  of  the  Greeks. 

One  peculiarity  of  the  Phoenicians  was  the  fact  that,  although 
pupils  of  the  Egyptians  and  Chaldaeans,  they  never  borrowed  from 
their  teachers  the  composite  and  grotesque  gods  with  human 
forms  and  heads  of  hawks,  crocodiles,  and  other  animals.  Their 
gods  were  always  anthropomorphic.  Their  interest  was  pre- 
dominantly social;  they  paid  little  attention  to  nature.  Hence, 
when  they  began  to  provide  the  still  barbarous  Greeks  with  idols 
which  the  latter  immediately  began  to  imitate,  they  did  not  put 
into  their  hands  any  of  the  grotesque  combinations  of  which  the 
dwellers  on  the  Nile  and  Euphrates  were  so  fond.  Their  execu- 
tion was  rough  and  awkward,  but  it  turned  the  Greeks  into  the 
only  path  by  which  true  art  could  be  reached.  Even  the  coarse 
representations  of  differences  in  sex  may  have  served  to  lead  the 
Greeks  to  a  close  study  of  the  human  figure,  thus  assisting  in  the 
development   of   their   art   consciousness.' 

Aside  from  the  stimulus  given  to  Greek  industry  by  the  im- 
portation of  Syrian  and  other  products,  the  establishment  of  fac- 

»  "She  assumed  the  office  of  ubiquitous  broker,  of  an  intermediary  moving 
to  and  fro  between  the  East  and  the  West." — Perrot  and  Chipiez,  Art  in  Primitive 
Greece,  I,  4. 

'  Perrot  and  Chipiez,  History  of  Art  in  Phcenicia,  I,  83. 


CONTRIBUTION  OF  ANTIQUITY  TO  MODERN  SOCIETY  35 

tories  on  the  Greek  coasts,  especially  for  the  utilization  of  the 
fish  dye  to  be  secured  there,  set  the  Greeks  an  example  which 
they  were  not  slow  to  copy.  And  so,  in  art,  architecture,  manu- 
factures, and  the  use  of  the  alphabet,  the  pupils  were  soon  able 
to  set  models  for  their  masters.  The  Phoenicians  were  a  race 
of  merchants,  and  never  had  sufficient  imagination  to  give  artistic 
form  to  that  which  they  produced.  Nor  did  they  ever  contribute 
new  inventions.  They  attained  a  high  degree  of  skill  in  the  use 
of  hand  and  eye,  but  never  attempted  to  give  expression  to  ideal 
conceptions.  They  gave  the  world  the  alphabet,  but  themselves 
used  it  for  little  more  than  book-keeping,  and  never  produced  a 
literature.  The  Hellenic  genius  soon  emancipated  itself  from 
the  narrow  utiHtarian  precepts  and  example  of  Phoenicia;  but 
the  contact  with  the  latter  had  given  the  barbarians  their  first 
important  lessons  in  the  arts  of  civilized  life.  The  Greek  arts 
and  manufactures  continued  to  improve,  and  finally  Greek  com- 
merce crowded  out  the  Phoenician.  The  Greeks  also  began  to  go 
to  Egypt  and  get  at  first  hand  much  that  their  former  teachers 
had  passed  over  or  imperfectly  interpreted.  It  is  possible  that 
the  Hellenic  development  would  have  been  stunted,  had  not  some 
of  its  elementary  stages  been  thus  shortened  by  a  partial  generali- 
zation of  existing  civilization  by  an  intermediary.  In  principle 
the  Greek  and  Phoenician  processes  were  the  same.  Both  consisted 
in  the  generalization  of  older  civilizations  which  had  been  worked 
out  by  peoples  that  were  unable  to  generahze  them.  Except  for 
furnishing  a  sort  of  abbreviated  copy  of  Egyptian  and  Chaldaean 
civilization,  the  Phoenicians  contributed  little  to  Europe.^ 

Period  of  Athenian  expansion. — By  the  seventh  century  b.  c. 

I  The  works  particularly  consulted  on  this  section  were  Renan,  Mission 
de  Phenicie;  Pietschmann,  Geschichie  der  Phonizier;  Movers,  Die  Phonizier; 
Parrot  and  Chipiez,  Art  in  Pheenicia. 

I  have  not  thought  it  desirable  to  trace  the  influence  of  Babylonian 
civilization  upon  the  Greek  development,  as  no  difference  in  principle  appears 
in  that  influence.  There  was  this  slight  difference:  while  the  Egyptians  contrib- 
uted conventionalized  type  forms,  the  Chaldaeans  contributed  richness  and  variety. 
The  main  contribution,  however,  was  the  stimulus  to  the  development  of  technical 
skill  and  the  desire  for  luxuries. 


36  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

the  Greeks  had  entered  upon  their  third  economic  stage — the 
commercial  and  industrial.  A  little  after  the  middle  of  that 
century,  the  commerce  of  Egypt  was  opened  up  to  them,  and  about 
the  same  time  their  former  teachers,  the  Phoenicians,  were  over- 
thrown by  the  Assyrians.  From  this  time  their  commercial  ex- 
pansion was  very  rapid.  It  was  brought  about  both  by  the  ex- 
tension of  markets  and  by  the  inspiration  received  from  the  new 
patterns  found  in  foreign  lands.  Articles  of  luxury  were  made 
for  exchange  for  the  raw  materials  of  the  richer  lands  of  Asia 
Minor.  Colonies  were  founded  and  the  foundations  laid  for  a 
great  commerce.* 

As  we  have  seen,  one  of  the  important  consequences  of  this 
contact  with  older  civilizations  was  the  freeing  of  the  technique 
of  industry.  What  the  Greeks  then  produced  was  the  idealiza- 
tion of  the  best  that  others  had  been  producing  without  trying  to 
reach  ideals.  AU  of  their  technical  processes  were  therefore 
more  or  less  artistic.  The  older  processes  of  native  develop- 
ment were  necessarily  revolutionized  by  the  reaction  of  the  new 
methods  upon  them.  Without  this  a  higher  development  would 
doubtless  have  been  impossible.  The  ancient  gods  had  been 
shapeless  stones  and  sticks.  Later,  when  gods  were  multiplied,  new 
forms  were  made  in  imitation  of  the  older  ones.  The  trade  was 
in  the  hands  of  certain  families  which  were  united  in  gilds. 
Pious  reverence  forbade  any  improvement  in  the  images  of  the 
gods.  There  was  thus  no  possibility  of  advance  in  artistic  prod- 
ucts and  no  stimulus  to  advance  in  technical  methods.  But 
when  the  technical  skill  was  developed  in  the  newly  established 
industries,  and  when  admiration  for  the  athlectic  form  led  to  a 
desire  ^  to  perpetuate  it,  lifelike  images  of  the  victors  in  the 
games  were  produced.  With  these  images  of  great  beauty  the 
primitive  idols  compared  very  unfavorably;  and  so  they  were  made 
over  into  forms  which  idealized  the  human  figure.  When  the 
god  was  given  artistic  form,  reverence  still  forbade  that  his  fea- 
tures should  be  too  individual;  hence  a  greater  generalization 
was  made,  resulting  in  still  higher  type  forms.     And  the  Hel- 

»  BuchsenschUtz,  Besitz  und  Erwerb,  381. 


CONTRIBUTION  OF  ANTIQUITY  TO  MODERN  SOCIETY  37 

lenes  being  under  no  such  animistic  bondage  as  that  to  'which  the 
Egyptians  were  subject,  the  likenesses  of  human  beings  could 
be  made  to  flatter  them  and  idealize  their  real  forms  and  features 
to  the  extent  of  the  artists'  ability.  By  the  middle  of  the  fifth  cen- 
tury art  had  been  emancipated  from  the  necessity  of  reproducing 
invariable  forms.  Similarly,  architecture  idealized  the  rustic 
booths  which  had  formerly  served  as  shelters  for  the  gods,  and 
produced  the  magnificent  temple.^ 

An  added  impulse  was  given  to  the  artistic  and  technical  de- 
velopment after  the  Persian  wars;  and  this  was  most  marked 
in  Athens.  That  city  had  to  be  completely  rebuilt  after  the  vic- 
tory at  Salamis.  The  leading  part  taken  by  Athens  in  the  glori- 
ous struggle  made  her  the  natural  head  of  a  group  of  states  and 
colonies.  She  was  able  to  exact  from  her  allies  a  vast  tribute 
which,  together  with  the  gains  of  her  own  industry,  so  expanded 
by  the  national  exaltation  and  favored  by  the  years  of  peace,  gave 
her  ample  resources  for  all  her  great  undertakings.  This  national 
exaltation  also  led  to  the  development  of  individual  genius;  and 
accordingly  we  find  in  the  generation  succeeding  the  victory 
a  number  of  men  who  had  caught  the  spirit  of  their  national  great- 
ness. At  the  head  of  these  were  Pericles  and  Phidias  who  directed 
the  poHtical  and  artistic  life  of  the  capital.^  So,  after  several 
centuries,  during  which  the  technique  was  patiently  developed,  art 
was  freed  and  brought  to  its  greatest  perfection.  The  values  of 
experience  were  idealized  and  objectified.  No  other  people 
ever  so  completely  generalized  the  principles  which  lay  behind 
human  products.  The  Greeks  never  copied  or  imitated  the  prod- 
ucts of  others,  but  adapted  the  technical  processes  which  they 
had  abstracted  from  older  civilizations  to  their  own  uses.  They 
thus  formed  the  habit  of  separating  meaning  from  existence  and 

I  Cf.  Grote,  History,  III,  chap,  xxix;  Duruy,  History  of  Greece,  II,  188-94; 
III,  92  ff.,  132  ff. 

I  do  not  forget  that  the  remains  of  Greek  (  ?)  architecture  and  sculpttire  at 
Troy,  Tiryns,  and  Mycenae  show  considerable  merit.  So  do  the  rock  paintings 
of  the  Australians  and  Bushmen.  It  is  doubtful  whether  the  rude  and  cimibrous 
methods  would  ever  have  been  freed  without  the  influences  I  have  described. 

'  Cf.  Curtius,  History,  II,  i-iii,  538-46,  637-41. 


38  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

of  finding  Teality  in  the  meaning  rather  than  the  existence.  With 
them  every  experience  came  to  have  an  eternal  value,  a  value  last- 
ing after  the  experience  had  gone.  As  they  advanced  they  be- 
came more  conscious  of  this  typical,  ideal  element ;  yet  they  could 
conceive  it  only  by  visualizing  it.  Experience  had  to  be  formu- 
lated in  terms  of  objective  individuality;  but  they  did  not  rest 
with  the  simple  objectification  of  particular  experiences,  they 
attained  objective  types  which  could  be  regarded  as  adequate 
expressions  of  their  absolute  reality.  This  conception  of  the 
reality  as  being  found  only  in  the  meaning,  which  yet  must  be 
given  objective  form,  was  a  contradiction.  It  meant  the  defin- 
ing of  experience  in  static  terms.  The  type,  however,  was  that 
which  expressed  the  reality,  as  distinct  from  the  mere  external 
form  which  struck  the  senses.  This  is  why  Greek  art  could 
attain  such  high  excellence.* 

This  peculiar  characteristic  of  the  art  consciousness  of  the 
Greeks  is  the  key  to  their  ethical  contribution.  Living  became 
an  art  with  them,  the  principles  of  which  could  be  generalized  and 
applied  to  the  guidance  of  conduct.  The  universal  was  the  real,  as 
with  certain  mediaeval  philosophers;  but  the  universal  had  to  be 
got  from  the  particular  and  then  given  expression  in  type  form. 

The  social  effects  of  the  industrial  development  were  most 
important.  The  freeing  of  the  technical  processes  necessarily 
led  to  the  freeing  of  the  artisan  and  artist  from  servitude  or  any 
form  of  traditional  control.  Creative  genius  had  to  be  free;  and 
the  initiation  of  a  new  movement  is  always  a  creation.  The 
carrying-over  from  another  people  was  the  same  as  a  creation  in 
this  case,  because  the  technique  had  to  be  generalized.  In  the 
time  of  Athenian  greatness  Phidias  was  the  equal  of  princes  and 
nobles.  Many  others  shared  the  greatness  of  their  chief.  The 
merchants,  especially  those  who  were  carrying  on  commercial 
dealings  with  foreign  countries,  and  the  artisans,  except  those 
whose  work  was  purely  mechanical,  enjoyed  great  prosperity. 

I  Dewey,  ibid.  Dr.  Dewey  has  also  shown  the  importance  of  the  fact  that 
the  Greeks  passed  their  ideals  into  literature  and  worked  out  their  standards  as 
images  which  then  depended  for  their  form  upon  the  imagination  of  the  artist. 


CONTRIBUTION  OF  ANTIQUITY  TO  MODERN  SOCIETY  39 

The  immediate  effect  of  the  rise  of  industry  was  the  breaking 
down  of  the  old  landed  aristocracy.  The  power  first  passed 
into  the  hands  of  the  trading  class.  Beginning  with  the  legisla- 
tion of  Solon  encouragement  was  given  to  manufactures  and 
commerce.^  The  first  beneficiaries  of  this  legislation  were  the 
metics,  but  gradually  citizens  who  did  not  belong  to  the  landed 
aristocracy  became  wealthy  and  powerful.  The  common  people 
associated  with  the  new  aristocracy  against  the  old,  and  finally 
demagogues  arose  who  appealed  to  the  masses  against  both  the 
landed  aristocracy  and  the  wealthier  merchants  and  attempted 
to  make  over  the  laws  and  customs  in  the  interest  of  the  democ- 
racy. These  tyrants  resembled  those  who  arose  in  the  Italian 
republics  after  the  merchant  class  had  overthrown  the  landed 
nobility.  This  was  the  natural  development  of  democracy. ' 
Since  the  common  people  could  not  get  the  control  directly  in 
their  own  hands,  they  gave  it  to  the  t)n:ant.  As  Plato  made  Soc- 
rates say,  the  oligarchy  destroyed  itself  by  its  very  love  of  wealth, 
and  the  democracy  destroyed  itself  by  its  very  love  of  freedom.  ^ 
The  tyrant  became  the  leveling  agent,  tending  to  free  slaves,  to 
raise  the  mob  to  prominence,  and  to  destroy  distinctions  generally. 
This  state  of  affairs  was  one  occasion  of  the  Socratic  philosophy. 

While,  however,  the  classes  which  introduced  the  arts  of  life 
into  Greece  and  adapted  them  to  Grecian  needs  had  to  become 
free,  and  while  they  steadily  advanced  in  wealth  and  social  posi- 
tion, there  was  always  a  vast  amount  of  merely  mechanical  imita- 
tive work  to  be  done,  for  which  slaves  and  inferior  free  artisans 
could  be  employed.  As  soon  as  a  new  industry  was  established, 
the  economies  to  be  derived  from  division  of  labor  would  lead  to 
the  employment  of  inferior  artisans  wherever  possible.  The 
rapid  expansion  of  industry — ^beyond  the  ability  of  the  existing 
supply  of  labor — led  to  the  introduction  of  slavery  on  a  large 
scale.     Periander's  prohibition  of  slave  labor  in  Corinth,  which 

I  Biichsenschiitz.  Besitz  und  Erwerb,  322,  323. 

'  Plato,  Republic  (Davies  and  Vaughn  ed.),  viii,  294.  "That  it  is  a  transfor- 
mation of  democracy  is  all  but  obvious." 

3  Plato,  loc.  cit. 


40  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

was  intended  to  encourage  industry,  had  an  opposite  efifect  be- 
cause the  supply  of  free  labor  was  insufficient.  With  the  rapid 
extension  of  slavery  at  Athens  during  the  period  of  her  greatness, 
free  labor  still  enjoyed  great  prosperity,  both  because  of  the  un- 
ceasing demand  for  labor,  and  because  the  esteem  in  which  the 
higher  artisans  and  artists  were  held  reflected  some  advantage  to 
all  skilled  workmen.  The  artisans  having  acquired  political 
power  during  the  times  of  greatest  prosperity,  it  was  impossible 
to  deprive  them  of  their  political  rights  in  the  times  of  com- 
mercial depression  and  demagoguery.  During  the  latter  period, 
the  lesser  artisans  were  in  a  miserable  condition  and  could  not 
themselves  control  the  cities,  but  the  democratic  principle  having 
been  admitted,  they  could  place  the  power  in  the  hands  of  tyrants. 
The  artisans  were  banded  together  in  gilds;  but  these  had  no 
economic  significance,  being  neither  agencies  for  police  control, 
as  at  Rome,  nor  of  self-protection,  as  during  the  mediaeval  period.* 
But  notwithstanding  this  continuance  of  political  power  which 
Plato  so  much  deplored,  there  came  a  virtual  economic  slavery 
which  justified  Plato  in  regarding  all  artisans  as  slaves.  This 
was  brought  about  by  two  circumstances.  The  more  prom- 
inent of  these  was  the  mass  of  slave  labor  which  more  than  supplied 
the  requirements  of  industry  after  the  Golden  Age  had  passed 
away.  After  the  public  works  of  Pericles  were  completed  the 
demand  for  labor  must  have  fallen  off  to  such  an  extent  that 
many  artisans  were  left  without  employment.  Free  laborers 
would,  of  course,  be  turned  adrift  long  before  slaves  would  be 
withdrawn  from  the  languishing  industries.  The  Peloponnesian 
War  called  into  service  every  available  man;  so  that  the  industry 
that  was  carried  on  at  home  fell  largely  into  the  hands  of  the 
servile  population.  From  that  time  the  unsettled  political  con- 
ditions both  within  and  without  the  city  made  a  prosperous 
industrial  life  impossible.  The  inventive  genius  was  no  longer 
needed.  The  artist  and  the  artisan  could  satisfy  all  demands  by 
merely  imitating  the  products  of  the  golden  Age.  The  few  poets, 
dramatists,  sculptors,  and  skilled  artisans  who  could  be  produced 

'  Biichsenschutz,  op.  cit.,  331. 


CONTRIBUTION  OF  ANTIQUITY  TO  MODERN  SOCIETY  41 

in  such  a  society  found  freer  scope  for  the  exercise  of  their  talents 
in  Macedonia  or  other  foreign  lands.  ^  It  is  true,  a  high  degree 
of  technical  skill  was  still  frequently  required,  but  the  work  was 
largely  mechanical  and  could  bring  no  very  great  rewards  to  the 
workman.  Not  only  could  slave  labor  be  used  in  the  ateliers  as 
steam  is  used  in  modern  factories,  but  the  requirement  was  usually 
for  small  fragments  of  a  product  from  each  laborer,  and  few  men 
had  abihties  which  could  command  respectable  reward.'  It 
was  on  account  of  this  feature  of  specialized  labor  that  Plato  and 
Aristotle  held  to  the  theory  of  the  natural  servile  condition  of  the 
working  classes.  They  were  servile,  both  because  they  could 
no  longer  control  the  technique  of  their  industries,  and  because 
the  slaves  could  do  their  work  equally  well.^ 

The  other  causes  of  the  degradation  of  the  working  class  had 
to  do  with  phenomena  of  consumption.  Hellenic,  and  especi- 
ally Athenian,  manufactures  were  largely  such  as  passed  beyond 
the  control  of  the  laborers.  The  great  public  works,  of  course, 
were  of  such  a  nature,  except  as  they  could  contribute  to  the  en- 
joyment of  all  classes.  The  general  products  of  industry  were 
luxuries  for  the  consumption  of  the  rich,  or  were  manufactured 
expressly  for  barbarians  or  less  cultured  peoples  who  were  largely 
exploited.'*  There  was  no  possibility  of  bringing  such  products 
under  the  control  of  the  artisans,  for  the  latter  could  consume  none 
of  them.  The  condition  of  economic  advance  is  the  elevation  of 
consumptive  demands.  This  can  not  take  place  if  the  only  prod- 
ucts of  industry  are  the  bare  necessaries  of  life  and  such  goods 
as  are  hopelessly  above  the  producers.  In  times  of  prosperity 
the  Athenian  would  receive  all  the  food  and  coarser  commodities 
he  needed;  but,  except  in  the  case  of  men  whose  services  were 
in  such  demand  that  they  arose  far  above  their  former  station, 
it  was  impossible  for  the  artisan  to  receive  more  than  these  neces- 

I  Curtius,  History,  III,   556,  557. 
»  Buchsenschiitz,  op.  cit.,  341. 

3  For  a  discussion  of  the  number  of  slaves  in  Athens,  and  the  manner  of 
employment,  vide  Wallon,  Hisioire  de  I'esclavage,  Vol.  I,  chap,  viii,  esp.  245  ff. 

4  Biichsenschiitz,  op.  cit.,  317. 


42  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

saries,  because  there  was  nothing  else  produced  except  commo- 
dities that  were  too  far  above  him  to  be  hoped  for.  Without  a 
mass  of  products  between  the  two  extremes  of  the  necessaries  of 
life  and  luxuries,  there  could  be  no  gradual  rise  in  the  standard 
of  living;  and  without  the  latter  there  could  be  little  control  of 
the  products  of  industry  by  the  laborer.^ 

Thus  it  came  about  that  the  most  wonderful  artistic  genius 
the  world  has  ever  known,  combined  with  a  marvelous  develop- 
ment of  technical  skill,  could  not  prevent  the  working  classes 
from  dropping  to  a  condition  closely  resembling  that  which  we 
have  found  to  have  prevailed  in  ancient  Egypt.  The  working 
classes  continued  to  possess  a  political  power  which  rendered 
them  dangerous,  but  their  actual  condition  was  such  as  to  war- 
rant the  judgment  of  Plato  and  Aristotle.  Controlling  neither 
the  technique  nor  the  products  of  their  industry,  they  could  not  be 
other  than  economic  slaves." 

Period  of  decay  and  reflection. — The  economic  decay  just  de- 
scribed was  accompanied  by  the  political  decay  caused  by  the 
Peloponnesian  War.  The  social  life  of  Greece  came  to  conscious- 
ness when  the  industrial  development  had  passed  its  zenith,  when 
the  political  system  was  decaying,  and  when  the  independence 
of  the  states  was  being  threatened.  The  social  philosophy  was 
most  highly  developed  at  Athens.  There  the  philosophers,  to 
explain  society,  used  the  concepts  which  had  been  worked  out 
for  the  explanation  of  physical  phenomena  by  the  philosophers 
of  Asia  Minor.  The  first  philosophers  to  attempt  to  apply  these 
principles  to  the  conduct  of  life  were  the  Sophists.  These  teachers 
held  that  the  art  of  life  could  be  followed  by  the  individual  under 
any  pohtical  conditions.  This  was  the  logical  conclusion  of  the 
tendency  to  abstract  general  principles  from  particular  things. 
But  the  Sophists,  unlike  the  Socratic  philosophers,  attempted  no 
reconstruction  of  the  social  order;     they  simply  reacted  against 

I  This  important  fact  concerning  consumption  will  receive  frequent  illus- 
tration throughout  this  essay.     Its  significance  will  be  more  apparent  later. 

»  "Ainsi  le  travail  libre,  garanti,  impose  par  Solon,  ^tendu  par  Pericles,  ne 
sufl&sait  plus  h,  Clever  les  classes  inf^rieures  audessus  de  I'indigence." — Wallon, 
op.  cit.,  1,  151. 


CONTRIBUTION  OF  ANTIQUITY  TO  MODERN  SOCIETY  43 

it.  So  the  first  effect  of  the  abstraction  of  the  principles  of  con- 
duct was  to  bring  the  individual  into  prominence.  Both  the  Soph- 
ists and  Socrates  were  coming  to  see  that  hving  is  an  art,  a  matter 
of  law  and  order,  the  principles  of  which  could  be  discovered  and 
applied.  An  emphasis  was  laid  upon  the  individual;  but  he 
was  to  Hve  according  to  rational  principles,  not  according  to  mere 
command  as  with  the  Hebrews.^ 

The  social  consciousness  of  their  origin  and  end  prevented 
the  Athenians  from  accepting  the  negative  sophistic  teaching: 
they  distinguished  the  spirit  of  their  social  life  from  the  outward 
forms  which  were  crumbhng  away.  How  the  center  could  be 
transferred  from  social  custom  to  individual  reason,  and  yet  the 
social  idea  and  standard  be  maintained,  was  the  problem  of 
Socrates  and  Plato.  They  go  back  to  the  methods  of  the  trades 
and  arts  for  their  standards  in  teaching  an  art  of  life.' 

This  emergence  of  an  art  of  life  with  professional  teachers  can  not  be 
thoroughly  understood,  unless  it  is  viewed  as  a  crowning  result  of  a  general 
tendency  at  this  stage  of  Greek  civilization  to  substitute  technical  skill  for 
traditional  procedure  and  empirically  developed  faculty.  In  the  age  of  the 
Sophists  we  find,  wherever  we  turn,  the  same  eager  pursuit  of  knowledge, 
and  the  same  eager  effort  to  apply  it  directly  to  practice.^ 

The  fault  which  Socrates  found  with  the  artisans  and  artists 
was  that,  although  they  understood  their  particular  arts,  they 
did  not  perceive  the  social  values  of  them.  The  end  of  all  these 
particular  ends  must  be  known.  But  since  the  artisan  did  not 
see  the  relation  of  his  particular  art  to  the  general  art  of  Hfe,  he 
could  not  be  free.  Socrates  and  his  successors  held  that  only 
the  man  who  can  appreciate  the  end  of  life  is  wise;  those  who 
devote  themselves  to  minor  ends  are  base.  Socrates  showed 
that  the  difficulty  in  life  is  that  of  connecting  the  particular  and 
the  universal.  Like  the  Sophists,  Socrates  addressed  individuals, 
but  unhke  them,  his  aim  was  to  bring  individual  ends  and  the 
social  end  into  harmony.     But  this  could  not  be  done  by  the 

«  Dewey,  ibid.;   Wundt,  Ethical  Systems,  5,  6. 

a  Dewey,  ibid.;  Windelband,  History  0}  Philosophy,  77  ff. 

3  Sidgwick,  History  of  Ethics,  21. 


44      '       DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

Athenians  without  a  disintegration  and  a  reconstruction  of  their 
social  life.  The  existing  social  institutions  had  grown  up  in  a  hap- 
hazard way,  while  the  technical  processess  had  developed  to  such  an 
extent  that  they  could  be  reduced  to  order  within  themselves ;  and 
since  men's  lives  are  unified,  conceptions  of  order  in  general  had 
to  arise.  These  institutions  could  not  be  generahzed  as  they  ex- 
isted ;  hence  Socrates  was  regarded  as  an  enemy  of  society.  Like 
Socrates,  Plato  recognized  that  the  problem  was  the  harmonizing 
of  particular  and  general  ends;  but  unlike  his  master,  he  became 
reconciled  to  the  problem.  He  partially  separated  the  problem 
from  the  practical  sphere  to  work  it  out  more  accurately.  Aris- 
totle got  entirely  away  from  practical  interests.  Thus  the  artisan 
and  the  philosopher  who  had  been  held  together  by  Socrates  were 
separated.  Plato  concluded  that  the  artisan  could  never  know 
the  social  values  of  his  activity,  and,  therefore,  could  never  be- 
come truly  moral.  The  philosopher  was  to  know  the  supreme 
good  and  transmute  it  to  the  warrior  and  citizen  class  which 
would  be  able  to  appreciate  it  when  it  should  be  shown  to  them, 
though  they  were  unable  to  discover  it  for  themselves.  The  in- 
dustrial class  could  not  appreciate  the  supreme  good  at  all;  hence 
they  should  simply  follow  the  directions  of  the  citizen-warrior 
class  as  received  by  the  latter  from  philosophers.^  Socrates  had 
never  taught  that  the  man  who  was  pursuing  particular  ends 
could  not  become  wise  and  thus  realize  the  end  also.  What  he 
insisted  upon  was  that  the  social  values  of  all  the  minor  ends,  all 
the  particular  activities,  should  be  appreciated.  Only  thus  could 
a  man  become  truly  moral.     But  in  taking  this  position  Socrates 

»  Dewey,  ibid.;  Wundt,  Ethical  Systems,  15,  16;  Sidgwick,  op.  cit.,  40-46; 
Plato,  Republic,  ix,  320,  321. 

"  Philosophy  has  now  passed  from  the  market-place  into  the  study  or  lecture- 
room.  The  quest  of  Socrates  was  for  the  true  art  of  conduct  for  an  ordinary 
member  of  the  human  society,  a  man  living  a  practical  life  among  his  fellows. 
But  if  the  objects  of  abstract  thought  constitute  the  real  world,  of  which  this  world 
of  individual  things  is  but  a  shadow,  it  is  plain  that  the  highest,  most  real  life 

must  lie  in  the  former  region  and  not  in  the  latter It  is  plain  that  if  the  good 

that  is  to  be  known  is  the  ultimate  ground  of  the  whole  of  things,  so  that  the  knowl- 
edge of  it  includes  all  other  knowledge,  it  is  only  attainable  by  a  select  and  care- 
fully trained  few." — Sidgwick,  loc.  cit. 


CONTRIBUTION  OF  ANTIQUITY  TO  MODERN  SOCIETY  45 

had  implied  the  position  taken  afterward  by  Plato.  He  had 
taught  that  only  the  wise  man  could  realize  the  end  of  life. 
To  Plato  it  became  apparent  that  only  a  few  could  become  wise. 
Therefore  the  ideal  state  should  be  guided  by  the  philosophers 
who  alone  knew  the  supreme  end.  The  warrior-citizen  class 
could  be  useful  only  as  they  followed  the  directions  of  the  ruling 
philosophers  in  attending  to  the  details  of  administration  and  in 
defending  the  state  against  enemies.  The  industrial  class  had 
to  remain  entirely  servile.  The  activity  of  this  class  was  essential 
to  the  welfare  of  the  state,  but  the  activity  itself  was  base  and  by 
itself  meaningless. 

Thus  Plato  got  entirely  away  from  the  individual  whom  Soc- 
rates addressed,  and  laid  the  emphasis  upon  the  political  organ- 
ization. His  ethical  ideal  lay,  not  in  the  well-being  of  the  indi- 
vidual, but  in  the  ethical  perfection  of  the  species.  The  ethical 
ideal  became  the  pohtical,  and  "in  the  midst  of  the  time  which 
saw  the  dissolution  of  Greek  political  life,  and  in  opposition  to 
those  doctrines  which  proclaimed  only  the  principle  of  individual 
happiness,  he  raised  the  conception  of  the  state  to  an  all-con- 
trolling height."^ 

It  was  not  reasonable  to  restrict  all  virtue  to  the  wise  alone;  so 
each  of  the  social  classes  in  pursuing  its  proper  activities  would 
cultivate  its  proper  virtue:  the  artisan  moderation,  the  warrior 
valor,  the  teacher  wisdom.  The  unity  of  these  virtues  could  be 
found  only  in  the  highest  class,  the  philosophers.  These  would 
necessarily  combine  in  themselves  the  lower  virtues;'  but  the 
unity  of  the  virtues  was  not  to  consist  in  their  identity,  as  had 
been  assumed,  but  in  the  government  of  the  lower  by  the  highest. 
The  functional  unity  of  these  virtues  is  found  in  the  harmonizing 
of  them  all,  in  the  social  virtue,  justice  (8iKaioavv7}).3  This 
fourth  virtue  stands  most  closely  connected  with  the  particular 
virtue  of  the  philosopher.  The  wise  man  is  one  in  whom  the 
various  elements  are  operating  in  harmonious  activity;  and  this 

*  Windelband,  History  of  Philosophy,  126. 
'  Plato,  Republic,  ix,  319,  320. 
3  Wundt,  op.  cit.,  16. 


46  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

activity  cannot  be  perfect  unless  the  man  is  truly  wise.^  And  yet 
the  virtue  of  the  social  organism — the  SiKaioavvr} — must  not  be 
confounded  with  the  virtue  of  the  philosopher  class  which  realizes 
the  social  end.  There  is  no  assertion,  as  in  Christianity,  of  an 
identity  of  interests  between  the  individual  and  society.  Soc- 
rates had  sought  to  solve  the  opposition  between  the  individual 
and  society;  but  Plato  was  content  to  have  it  remain.  No  one 
in  the  Platonic  state  could  pursue  his  own  ends.  Even  the  phi- 
losopher simply  directed  the  state  for  fear  of  the  evil  results  which 
would  follow  his  neglect.  His  real  interest  was  in  contemplation. 
But  in  addition  to  seeking  his  own  good,  he  had  to  seek  the  good 
of  society  as  a  whole.  This  was  a  violation  of  the  organic  prin- 
ciple which  Plato  was  seeking  to  apply.  If  there  was  a  common 
or  social  good,  it  ought  to  be  the  good  of  all  classes.  Each  class 
was  in  some  sense  an  organ  of  society;  but  the  end  of  the  social 
organism  was  not  the  end  of  any  one  of  the  classes.  The  arti- 
sans had  to  work  in  order  to  maintain  society;  the  warriors  had 
to  fight  in  order  to  protect  society ;  the  philosophers  could  perform 
their  function  only  when  the  other  classes  were  performing  theirs. 
The  philosophers  in  contemplating  the  good  would  serve  the  ends 
of  society  at  the  same  time  that  they  served  their  own;  but  in  ad- 
dition to  this  they  had  to  perform  a  social  service  in  which  they 
had  no  individual  interest,  namely,  harmonize  the  activities  of 
all  three  classes. 

We  find  in  this  ideal  Platonic  state  the  principles  underlying 
the  political  organization  abstracted  from  any  particular  form  of 
political  organization.  The  same  general  cause  led  to  this  de- 
velopment, which  among  the  Hebrews  led  to  the  movements 
already  traced,  namely,  the  disruption  of  the  estabhshed  social 
habits.  When  these  could  no  longer  function  as  in  earlier  times, 
the  individual  had  to  be  thrown  forward  as  the  means  by  which 
a  new  co-ordination  should  finally  be  secured.  Among  the  He- 
brews, as  we  have  seen,  it  was  held  that  the  individual  who  was 
willing  to  obey  the  divine  will  could  realize  his  ethical  life  under 
any  external  conditions   whatsoever.    Among  the  Greeks,  both 

'  Sidgwick,  op.  cit.,  45. 


CONTRIBUTION  OF  ANTIQUITY  TO  MODERN  SOCIETY  47 

the  Sophists  and  Socrates  held  that  the  individual  who  attained 
to  knowledge  of  the  good  could  realize  his  ethical  life  amidst  the 
chaos  of  the  decadent  Hellenic  society.  Among  the  Hebrews, 
as  finally  stated  by  Jesus,  the  individual  needed  an  ideal  society 
in  which  to  function,  a  society  in  which  the  interests  of  the  indi- 
vidual and  the  interests  of  the  whole  should  be  identical.  Because 
the  emphasis  was  laid  on  the  willingness,  the  ideal  society  could 
be  democratic,  since  any  man  could  be  willing  to  observe  the 
divine  order.  Among  the  Greeks,  on  the  other  hand,  the  man 
who  was  to  reaUze  an  ethical  existence  had  to  have  an  insight 
into  the  supreme  end  of  Hfe.  Socrates  rather  hoped  that  every 
man  might  attain  to  this  insight;  but  Plato  was  obliged  to  give 
up  this  hope.  And  although  an  emphasis  was  given  to  the  in- 
dividual in  some  of  the  later  Greek  systems,  it  became  more  and 
more  apparent  that  only  the  select  few  could  ever  attain  to  the 
insight  which  could  enable  them  to  appreciate  the  ethical  end  of 
life.  The  movement  had  to  become  aristocratic.  And  so,  when 
the  new  social  order  was  posited  by  Plato,  the  wise  had  to  be 
made  rulers.  All  others  could  come  to  their  ethical  life  only 
through  these.  The  interests  of  the  masses  of  humanity  were 
not  identical  with  the  interests  of  the  whole  society.  Therefore 
the  minor  interests  had  to  be  co-ordinated — or,  better,  coerced — 
by  those  who  understood  the  supreme  end.  To  anticipate  a 
little,  this  is  what  actually  took  place  when  the  Greek  theories 
were  practically  applied  by  the  Romans.  Both  the  Hebrew  and 
the  Greek  systems  were  formal;  but  since  the  Greeks  had 
worked  out  certain  intellectual  conceptions  of  the  social  order, 
they  could  go  on  manipulating  these;  while  the  Hebrews  could 
never  get  beyond  the  purely  formal  statement  until  they  took  up 
the  intellectual  framework  furnished  by  the  Greeks. 

The  inadequacy  of  Plato's  conception  of  governing  and  gov- 
erned lay  in  the  fact  that  he  did  not  recognize  that  the  standards 
by  which  he  would  guide  action  had  been  worked  out  in  the  social 
process  itself.  It  was  possible  to  formulate  the  new  art  of  con- 
trol of  both  individual  and  social  life  only  because  of  the  particu- 
lar   arts    which    had    already  been  developed.     Plato  assumed 


48  DEVELOPMENT  OF  \VESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

a  standard  to  be  given  to  action  to  guide  it.  Yet  this  assump- 
tion would  have  been  impossible,  had  not  the  Greek  conscious- 
ness been  saturated  with  the  art  conceptions.  The  artisans  had 
been  working  according  to  standards  so  long  that  Plato  took  them 
as  a  matter  of  course.^  But  these  standards  had  been  worked 
out  in  the  industrial  processes  themselves.  Only  in  the  same 
way  could  social  standards  be  obtained. 

We  have  seen  that  the  nature  of  the  Greek  development  led 
to  the  severing  of  the  meaning  from  the  existence  and  the  find- 
ing of  the  value  in  the  meaning  rather  than  the  existence.  The 
technical  development  had  necessitated  this.  The  art  conscious- 
ness meant  the  appreciation  of  the  ideal  element  which  was  yet 
immediately  objectified  in  type  form.  Now  the  Greek  ethical 
development  followed  the  same  course.  The  principles  of  conduct 
were  abstracted,  and  yet  the  ethical  ideal  was  conceived  as  an  ob- 
jective reality,  not  as  a  construction  arising  out  of  the  activity 
itself.  The  universal  was  abstracted  from  the  particulars — 
whether  material  objects  or  specific  cases  of  conduct — and  then 
the  particulars  were  neglected  as  interfering  with  the  appreciation 
of  the  universal.  But  this  universal,  or  ideal,  was  immediately 
objectified  either  in  some  type  form  of  art  or  as  an  ethical  stand- 
ard. The  ideal  became  the  reality.  In  ethical  philosophy  a  fixed 
ideal  was  set  up,  and  the  activity  was  regarded  simply  as  a  means 
of  reaching  the  goal.  This  was  the  essence  of  the  Greek  move- 
ment, especially  as  exemplified  in  Plato.  The  goal  was  fixed, 
and  no  progress  was  looked  for  beyond  that  goal.  The  social 
life  was  regarded  as  static.  No  principle  could  be  laid  down  on 
which  society  could  be  constructed.  The  Republic  gave  a  system 
within  which  the  philosopher  was  to  control,  but  did  not  show 
how  the  philosopher  was  to  control. 

Now,  in  reality,  the  standards  used  by  all  classes  in  the  arts 
and  crafts  had  been  developed  through  the  particular  activities 
which  were  guided  by  them.  So  also  the  ethical  standards  which 
could  now  be  used  in  the  guidance  of  conduct  had  been  developed 
through  the  life  process  itself.      If  Plato  had  seen  that  con- 

»  Dewey,  ibid. 


CONTRIBUTION  OF  ANTIQUITY  TO  MODERN  SOCIETY  49 

sciousness  in  its  own  development  had  evolved  these  standards, 
he  might  have  been  willing  to  trust  the  process  of  life  to  realize 
the  standards  of  life,  instead  of  setting  up  a  philosophical  class 
apart  from  the  life-activities  to  declare  the  standards.  The  phi- 
losophers could  be  the  mediators  of  the  practical  social  life  only 
in  the  sense  that  they  might  interpret  and  generalize  it  from  within 
society.  They  could  never  stand  outside  of  society  and  invent  by 
pure  reason  the  standards  of  life  for  society.  The  standards  were 
themselves  a  part  of  the  process,  and  all  that  philosophers  could 
do  was  to  generalize  them.^ 

The  consequence  of  the  system  has  already  been  indicated. 
The  Platonic  society  was  statical.  No  possibility  of  progress  was 
recognized.  It  was  also  a  mechanical  aristocracy.  Only  the  phi- 
losophers could  know  the  social  end.  When  they  should  declare 
the  fixed  ideal  all  other  classes  must  be  compelled  to  conform  to 
it.  When  the  practical  administrative  ability  of  the  Romans  took 
hold  of  the  ideas,  the  Roman  Empire  was  the  result. 

Little  need  be  said  in  this  connection  of  the  movements  after 
Plato.  Aristotle  was  still  more  interested  in  the  theoretical  side 
of  the  problem,  and  was  more  willing  to  allow  practical  conditions 
to  continue  as  they  were.  He  formulated  the  metaphysics  and 
the  logic  ^so  that  they  could  run  on  independent  of  the  social  life, 
while  the  social  life  could  run  on  by  itself  undisturbed  by  philos- 
ophy. Socrates  had  stood  for  the  immediate  application  of 
thought  to  life  by  every  individual  for  himself.  Plato  also  held 
that  thought  is  the  instrument  of  action,  but  further  held  that  it  is 
first  necessary  to  know  what  thought  is.  The  philosopher  was 
to  think  that  others  might  act.  Plato  was  still  trying  to  hold 
the  social  life  together.  Thought  was  still  but  an  instrument  of 
action ;  and  the  philosophers  were  called  in  simply  because  every 
individual  could  not  work  out  his  own  end.  The  dualism  was 
complete  in  Aristotle  who  made  thought,  which  was  formerly 
the  means,  an  end  in  itself.  Philosophy  was  no  longer  a  mere 
instrument  to  be  used  in  furthering  life.  This  position  enabled 
Aristotle  to  separate  logic,  rhetoric,  politics,  etc.,  as  his  predeces- 

I  Dewey,  ibid. 


50  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

sors  never  could  do.^  The  Socratic  movement  is,  perhaps, 
best  observed  in  Plato,  since  he  formulated  what  his  master  left 
inchoate,  and  yet  did  not  lose  sight  of  the  importance  of  applying 
his  principles  to  the  social  life  as  Aristotle  did.  But  Aristotle 
worked  out  the  intellectual  categories  which  were  used  by  later 
society  in  measuring  the  values  of  life.  These  were  but  the  sys- 
tematization  and  formulation  of  the  judgments  concerning  society 
reached  by  his  two  predecessors.  The  Church  had  to  turn  to 
these  for  the  intellectual  framework  of  the  Christian  dogmas. 
"The  fundamental  part  of  the  scientific  conceptions  and  expres- 
sions everywhere  in  use,  even  to  the  present  time,  goes  back  to 
his  formulations."*  The  cardinal  points  in  previous  speculation 
gained  in  distinctness  from  the  application  of  Aristotelian  analy- 
sis, and  the  development  was  carried  further  on  the  more  abstract 
side.  Plato  had  only  incidentally  applied  his  analysis  of  the 
social  processes  to  the  universe  as  a  whole.  Aristotle  went  on  from 
that  point  and  formulated  the  conception  of  a  world  cause.  The 
old  animistic  conceptions  were  completely  generalized,  and  the 
idea  of  a  soul  of  the  universe,  a  rational  logos,  was  attained.  This 
was  the  monotheistic  conception  of  the  world  which  passed  into 
Christian  doctrine.  The  Hebrew  monotheism  was  ethical,  not 
intellectual.  One  God  was  held  for  purposes  of  obedience  and 
worship.  The  Greek  monotheism  was  intellectual,  and  supplied 
the  deficiencies  of  the  Hebrew  system  when  the  latter  passed  into 
Christian  doctrine.  ^ 

Of  the  post- Aristotelian  movements  still  less  need  be  said  in 
this  connection.  The  social  disintegration  had  proceeded  so  far 
that  the  interest  was  centered  in  the  conduct  of  the  individual 
life.  The  essence  of  the  moral  life  was  found  in  the  individual. 
The  finding  of  reality  in  the  universal,  rendering  the  particular 
an  obstruction,  led  to  an  emphasis  upon  the  contemplative  life. 
The  importance  attached  to  the  reason,  and  the  duaUsm  between 
it  and  desire  led  to  efforts  to  secure  the  individual  the  benefits  of 

I  Dewey,  ibid. 

'  Windelband,  History  of  Philosophy,  139. 

3  Dewey,  ibid. 


CONTRIBUTION  OF  ANTIQXHTY  TO  MODERN  SOCIETY  51 

the  rational  element.  The  Stoics  held  that  reason  could  deny  that 
an  object  was  desirable,  and  thus  throw  it  out  of  the  range  of 
the  desires.  The  Epicureans  held  that  the  reason  could  analyze 
the  objects  which  arouse  the  desires  in  order  to  save  the  latter 
from  illusion.  The  Neo-Platonists  held  that  reason  became 
ecstatic,  passionate,  engrossing  the  individual  so  completely  as 
to  cut  him  off  from  the  lower  part  of  his  nature.  This  last  posi- 
tion was  reached  by  blending  Greek  and  Hebrew  thought.  The 
emotional  value  given  to  the  reason  became  of  considerable  im- 
portance in  the  earlier  Christian  movement. 

Philosophy  realized  its  inabihty  to  fulfil  the  task  it  had  set: 
the  education  of  man  by  sure  insight  to  a  state  of  virtue  and  hap- 
piness.^ The  Christian  religion  seemed  to  satisfy  this  want. 
But  so  strong  was  the  feeling  of  a  need  of  knowledge  that  religion 
had  to  attempt  to  satisfy  both  the  intellect  and  the  emotions,  and 
had  to  transform  its  life  into  a  doctrine. 

The  true,  victorious  power  of  the  religion  of  Jesus  lay,  to  be  sure,  in  the 
fact  that  it  entered  this  decrepit,  blase  world  with  the  youthful  force  of  a 
pure,  high,  religious  feeling,  and  a  conviction  that  was  courageous  to  the 
death;  but  it  was  able  to  conquer  the  ancient  civilized  world  only  by  taking 
it  up  into  itself  and  working  it  over;  and  as  in  its  external  conflict  with  the 
old  world  it  shap>ed  its  own  constitution  and  thereby  ultimately  became  so 
strong  as  to  be  able  to  take  possession  of  the  Roman  state,  so  also  in  its  defense 
against  the  ancient  philosophy  it  made  the  world  of  that  philosophy's  ideas 
its  own,  in  order  thereby  to  build  up  its  own  dogmatic  system.* 

The  Hellenistic  efforts  to  attain  to  a  new  religion  which  would 
take  the  place  of  the  old  religions  that  had  been  destroyed  failed 
of  direct  realization.     But 

on  the  other  hand,  the  need  felt  by  positive  religion  to  complete  and  strengthen 
itself  in  a  scientific  doctrine  did  attain  its  goal;  the  Church  created  its  dogma. 
And  the  great  course  of  history  in  this  movement  was,  that  the  defeated  Hel- 
lenism in  its  powerful  death-struggle  still  created  the  conceptions  by  means 
of  which  the  new  religion  shaped  itself  into  a  dogma.^ 

The  effect  of  Greek  thought  upon  the  Roman  movement  was 
no  less  marked  than  its  effect  upon  the  Hebrew.     The  Platonic 

I  Windelband,  op.  cit.,  210.  '  Ibid.,  212. 

3  Ibid.,  215. 


$2  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

conception  of  the  state  as  freed  from  ethnic  limitations  and  com- 
pelling all  classes  to  serve  its  ends,  and  the  Stoic  conception  of  a 
natural  law  as  divine  and  eternal  and  above  the  particular  laws 
of  any  community,  gave  the  intellectual  tools  by  which  the  practical 
genius  of  the  Romans  was  able  to  work  out  the  constitution  of  the 
world-empire  and  a  body  of  law  for  all  nations. 

Thus  the  contribution  of  the  Greeks  to  civilization  consisted 
in  bringing  to  consciousness  the  part  played  by  the  intellect.  As 
the  Hebrews  emphasized  the  moral  motive,  so  the  Greeks  em- 
phasized the  standards  by  which  moral  conduct  may  be  measured. 
As  the  Hebrews  tended  to  formulate  experience  in  subjective 
terms,  so  the  Greeks  tended  to  formulate  experience  in  objec- 
tive terms.  In  generaUzing  experience  and  giving  the  general- 
ization typical  form,  the  Greeks  made  possible  the  conception 
of  standards  by  which  experience  could  be  judged;  and  by  ab- 
stracting the  principles  underlying  social  organization,  they  made 
possible  a  rational  conception  of  social  relations.  The  bearing 
of  the  Greek  contribution  will  appear  more  clearly  when  related 
to  the  Roman  as  well  as  the  Hebrew. 

THE  CONTRIBUTION   OF  ROME 

Our  examination  of  the  Roman  development  wiU  require  less 
time  than  we  have  been  compelled  to  devote  to  the  two  preceding 
societies,  not  because  the  mass  of  information  concerning  the 
Romans  is  less  than  that  obtainable  concerning  the  others,  but 
because  the  most  important  contribution  of  the  Romans  was  in 
part  the  outgrowth  of  the  Greek  development,  while  much  of  the 
Roman  social  life  developed  according  to  principles  that  have  been 
set  forth  in  the  earlier  portions  of  this  essay.  The  practical  or- 
ganizing ability  of  the  Romans  enabled  them  to  accomplish  what 
the  Greeks  could  not,  and  yet  the  Romans  would  doubtless  have 
failed,  had  not  the  Greek  contribution  been  made  available  for 
them  at  the  time  when  they  were  reconstructing  their  social  or- 
ganization. 

The  earlier  social  organization. — The  early  Roman  organiza- 
tion did  not  differ  materially  from  that  of  many  other  peoples* 


CONTRIBUTION  OF  ANTIQUITY  TO  MODERN  SOCIETY  53 

The  family  organization  did  not  break  down  at  an  early  period, 
as  had  happened  among  the  Greeks.  The  patriarchal  family  was 
continued.  The  family  was  a  social  organ,  the  father  having 
responsibilities  in  return  for  the  powers  that  were  vested  in  him. 
The  worship  of  shades  was  the  basis  of  the  maintenance  of  the 
family  continuity,  for  only  where  there  is  something  approaching 
the  patriarchal  family  can  this  practice  have  the  significance  that 
it  had  among  the  Romans.^  So  this  was  not  simply  an  act  of 
piety;  it  was  a  political  duty.^  The  clan  system  was  also  main- 
tained in  connection  with  the  institution  of  the  patriarchal  family, 
and  was  made  of  political  importance.^ 

The  religion  of  the  Romans  likewise  became  a  means  of  politi- 
cal control.  Like  the  religions  of  the  East,  it  represented  the 
consecration  of  political  and  social  institutions;  but  whereas  the 
oriental  religious  rites  tended  to  swallow  up  the  institutions  which 
they  first  arose  to  protect,  the  Romans  made  the  religious  organs 
subservient  to  the  political  institutions  and  used  them  only  to 
strengthen  the  institutions  in  the  minds  of  the  masses  of  the  peo- 
ple. When  the  early  Greek  religion  became  inadequate,  its  sub- 
stance passed  over  into  philosophy.  The  Roman  religion  did 
not  break  down  in  the  same  sense;  for  the  Romans  early  began 
to  work  over  their  religious  ideas  into  political  conceptions.  They 
were  never  interested  in  nature  as  nature,  but  held  down  nature 
to  practical  purposes.  The  Roman  gods  watched  over  the  habits 
of  life.  Every  important  social  act  had  its  particular  divinity. 
When  another  people  was  taken  into  the  Roman  state,  its  gods 
were  naturally  taken  in  also,  and  thus  the  Romans  became 
successful  in  organizing  other  peoples. 

Perhaps  the  peculiar  development  of  the  Roman  religion  was 
due  to  the  constant  conflict  of  the  people  with  their  neighbors, 
against  whom  they  were  yet  able  to  maintain  their  integrity.  The 
Greeks  were  able  to  lose  the  sense  of  value  of  their  outgrown  in- 
stitutions ;    but  the  Romans  never  felt  safe  in  changing  the  social 

I  Cf.  Twelve  Tables,  xi,  3,  15. 
a  Ibid.,  iv,  I,  3>  4,  5- 
3  Ibid.,  V,  2,  6. 


54  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

habits  which  had  worked  well  in  the  past,  because  they  were 
always  under  pressure  from  without.  They  therefore  clung  to 
and  reconsecrated  their  political  institutions,  even  when  they 
were  gradually  widening  their  significance.  The  growing  con- 
trol of  the  wealthy  classes  tended  to  make  the  religious  institu- 
tions more  and  more  important  as  agencies  of  political  control. 

All  legal  procedures  and  formulas  were  religious  in  character. 
The  forms  of  procedure  connected  with  all  the  important  events 
of  life  were  connected  with  religious  ceremonies.  These  forms 
were  held  in  the  possession  of  the  ruling  classes  until  several  revo- 
lutions had  taken  place.  Until  the  conquests  had  proceeded  quite 
far,  Roman  law  was  not  more  noteworthy  than  any  other  bar- 
baric law.  It  was  simply  a  body  of  ceremonial  rules  which  were 
held  a  sacerdotal  secret.  With  the  increase  of  the  importance  of 
the  plebeians  the  narrow  system  was  broken  down,  and  the  law 
of  the  Twelve  Tables  was  prepared  about  450  b.  c.  All  subse- 
quent development  proceeded  from  this  code. 

The  use  of  omens  was  likewise  for  poHtical  purposes.  Omens 
could  not  be  controlled  by  private  action.  Diviners  were  a  politi- 
cal class,  and  the  omens  could  be  inspected  only  with  reference 
to  public  ends.^  After  the  beginning  of  ethical  individualism 
there  was  a  tendency  on  the  part  of  individuals  to  resort  to  omens 
for  their  own  purposes;  but  when  the  state  was  in  vigor  this  was 
forbidden. 

The  subservience  of  all  to  the  political  power  was  thought 
necessary  in  order  to  maintain  a  balance  of  the  interests  of  all. 
The  Romans  laid  a  tremendous  emphasis  upon  private  rights ;  but, 
on  the  other  hand,  the  state  was  regarded  as  a  necessary  means  to 
secure  the  rights  of  the  individual.  The  peculiar  feature  was 
the  appeal  to  self-interest;  and  self-interest  could  be  secured  only 
through  the  state.  So  the  state  was  both  extremely  autocratic 
and  extremely  democratic'  This  feature  of  Roman  life  was 
developed,  largely  at  least,  by  the  expansion  of  the  state  and  the 
demands  made  upon  the  administrative  system.     The  expansion 

»  Twelve  Tables,  xi,  2,  6. 
»  Dewey,  ibid. 


CONTRIBUTION  OF  ANTIQUITY  TO  MODERN  SOCIETY  55 

was  so  rapid  and  the  works  and  the  public  domain  were  so  vast 
that  individual  enterprise  had  to  be  depended  upon  for  practi- 
cally all  administrative  purposes.  When  the  Empire  was  estab- 
lished, administrative  methods  had  been  so  far  reduced  to  a  sys- 
tem that  public  officials  could  manage  public  affairs  with  less 
abuse  than  was  found  unavoidable  under  the  contract  system.  But 
in  the  earlier  days  it  had  seemed  necessary  to  put  up  at  auction 
the  duties  of  collecting  rents  from  the  pubUc  domain,  of  fitting 
out  ships  and  provisioning  armies,  of  constructing  roads,  aque- 
ducts, and  other  public  works.  Thus  public  ends  were 
best  served  by  private  enterprise.  This  led  to  a  greater  recog- 
nition of  the  rights  of  the  individual,  which  the  preservation  of 
the  patriarchal  family  had  already  made  greater  than  among  any 
other  ancient  people,  and  to  the  further  emphasis  of  the  idea  of 
private  property  which  had  likewise  received  marked  develop- 
ment under  the  influence  of  the  family  institutions.  But  since 
the  great  enterprises  which  gave  scope  for  individual  activity 
were  public  enterprises,  the  individual  was  bound  to  the  com- 
munity in  the  strongest  possible  way.  So  a  powerful  appeal  could 
be  made  to  the  individual,  and  yet  the  individual  could  be  used 
as  an  agent. 

Like  Roman  law,  Roman  government  was  not  unlike  that  of 
any  other  city-state  until  the  extension  of  the  empire.  The  Ro- 
man life  differed  from  that  of  any  Greek  city  in  this :  Rome  was 
isolated,  while  there  were  many  Greek  cities  in  constant  inter- 
course with  one  another  and  with  ancient  civilizations.  The 
earlier  intercourse  of  Rome  with  her  Latin  neighbors  was  only 
such  as  would  arise  in  a  struggle  for  existence  with  them;  and 
when  the  Latins  united  their  forces  for  self-defense,  they  had 
little  to  give  one  another:  they  had  not  yet  reached  the  stage 
where  each  community  could  contribute  to  the  others,  nor  did 
they  have  the  rehgious  gatherings  which  would  promote  an  ex- 
change of  the  results  of  their  various  lines  of  development.  Rome 
had  no  intercourse  with  the  Egyptians  and  Assyrians;  little  with 
the  Phoenicians.  The  Etruscan  influence  was  probably  too 
early  to  be  of  service  to  the  rude  Romans,  except  in  architecture 


S6  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

and  the  laying  out  of  the  city  strongholds.  The  Greeks  had  been 
kept  by  their  rivalries  from  developing  any  such  concentrated 
political  power  as  that  enjoyed  by  Rome.  The  Greek  nation  con- 
sisted of  a  number  of  rival  states;  the  Romans  formed  a  con- 
centrated national  state  with  an  organization  based  on  the  admin- 
istrative system  of  a  single  city.  The  struggle  for  existence  was 
so  severe  that  by  the  time  they  had  conquered  security  war  had 
come  to  have  an  aesthetic  value  for  them,  and  so  was  carried  on 
for  its  own  sake.  Their  great  end  became  war,  though  at  the 
beginning  their  wars  had  economic  causes  or  were  carried  on  in 
self-defense.  Among  the  Greeks  the  multifarious  demands  of 
society  had  brought  many  civil  virtues  into  prominence.  War 
for  the  Greeks  was  simply  a  means  of  securing  some  definite  ob- 
ject. A  state  of  peace  was  with  them  the  natural  state  of  man- 
kind. War  for  the  Romans  was  a  permanent  occupation.  So, 
most  naturally,  the  Romans  came  to  have  both  a  superior  military 
organization  and  more  intense  national  feelings.  The  Roman 
considered  himself  but  a  component  part  of  his  nation,  and  viewed 
Rome  as  placed  over  against  all  the  rest  of  the  world.' 

The  expansion  of  Rome. — The  Roman  political  constitution, 
like  that  of  the  Greeks,  fell  to  pieces  under  the  stress  of  new  con- 
ditions. But  Rome  never  went  through  what  she  would  acknowl- 
edge to  be  a  revolution.  As  indicated  above,  the  constant  pres- 
sure of  external  enemies  made  necessary  a  stable  constitution; 
and  the  unassailable  strength  of  the  ruling  classes  and  landlords 
— never  overthrown,  as  at  Athens,  by  the  rapid  rise  of  the  indus- 
trial classes — permitted  internal  changes  only  by  gradual  stages. 
Practical  necessities  led  to  minute  alterations  from  time  to  time, 
until  the  revolution  was  accomplished.  The  estabhshment  of 
the  republic  meant  little  more  than  the  change  from  a  life-archon 
to  annual  archons  and  from  a  single  ruler  to  two  who  might  check 
one  another. 

From  the  establishment  of  the  republic  (509  b.  c.)  to  the  end 
of  the  second  Punic  War  (201  b.  c),  the  senate,  composed  of  the 
aristocracy,  was  the  real  government  of  Rome.    Though  but  a 

I  Findlay,  Greece  under  the  Romans,  20,  21. 


CONTRIBUTION  OF  ANTIQUITY  TO  MODERN  SOCIETY  57 

consultative  body,  the  senate,  like  all  legislatures,  was  able  to 
make  constant  inroads  on  the  executive;  and  had  in  this  case 
particular  advantages  because  the  magistrates  were  elected  for 
but  a  year,  and  were  usually  drawn  from  the  classes  strongest  in 
the  senate.  The  popular  assemblies  were  seldom  held,  being 
called  only  when  the  magistrates  summoned  them. 

While  the  senate,  however,  was  thus  profiting  by  knowing  its  own  mind 
and  by  having  functions  too  indefinite  to  be  curtailed,  the  conquests  of  the 
Roman  armies,  which  the  senate  at  first  did  so  much  to  advance  by  supplying 
both  wise  plans  and  effective  leaders,  were  sweeping  together  an  empire 
whose  government  was  to  prove  an  impossible  task  even  for  the  senate — 
for  any  magistrate  or  assembly,  indeed,  known  to  the  constitution  of  the 
city-republic.  Rome  was  denied  the  exclusively  municipal  life  for  which 
her  forms  of  government  fitted  her  and  which  was  permitted  to  Athens,  Sparta, 
and  the  other  cities  snugly  ensconced  in  their  little  valley  nests  among  the 
mountains  of  Greece.  She  had  no  pent-up  Attica  in  which  to  Uve  a  separate 
life.  There  were  rival  towns  all  about  her  on  the  plains  of  Latimn  and  beyond 
the  Tiber  in  Etruria.  When  they  had  been  brought  under  her  supremacy, 
she  had  but  gained  new  hostile  neighbors,  to  whom  her  territory  was  equally 
open.  She  seemed  comp>elled  for  the  sake  of  her  own  peace  to  conquer  all 
Italy.  Italy  subdued,  she  foimd  herself  separated  by  only  a  narrow  strait 
from  Sicily.  Drawn  into  the  tempting  island  by  policy  and  ambition,  she 
came  face  to  face  with  Carthage.  In  subduing  Carthage  she  was  led  to  con- 
quer Spain.  She  had  been  caught  in  a  tremendous  drift  of  compelling  fortune. 
Not  until  she  had  circled  the  Mediterranean  with  her  conquests,  and  had  sent 
her  armies  deep  into  the  three  continents  that  touch  its  international  waters, 
did  she  pause  in  the  momentous  undertaking  of  bringing  the  whole  world 
to  the  feet  of  a  single  city.  And  her  constitutional  life  itself  felt  every  stroke 
of  these  conquests.  This  constant  stress  of  war  was  of  the  deepest  conse- 
quence to  her  politics.' 

It  soon  became  impossible  to  administer  the  vast  empire  by 
means  of  a  municipal  constitution. 

And  yet  no  new  system  seemed  possible  to  the  Romans.  They 
simply  attempted  to  extend  their  city  constitution  over  the  whole 
world.  The  consuls  and  praetors  of  the  city  were  simply  ex- 
tended as  proconsuls  and  propraetors  of  the  provinces.  But  in 
the  provinces  these  officials  became  almost  wholly  irresponsible. 
No  way  could  be  conceived  by  which  a  local  government  might 

»  Wilson,  The  StaUy  99, 100. 


58  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

work  in  harmony  with  the  general  government.  The  provinciak 
could  not  be  enabled  to  check  the  rapacity  of  the  Roman  gover- 
nors and  contractors  without  having  a  part  in  the  government; 
but  this  could  not  be,  since  the  Roman  system  knew  nothing  of 
representative  assemblies  and  consequently  nothing  of  citizenship 
outside  of  Rome.  The  governors  had  but  short  terms  of  office, 
and  could  understand  but  little  of  the  ultimate  needs  of  their 
provinces.  The  temptation  to  join  the  capitalist  contractors  in 
exploiting  the  provincials  was  very  great ;  and  when  they  attempted 
to  introduce  reforms,  the  influence  of  the  capitalists  in  Rome  was 
sufl&cient  to  secure  their  disgrace  and  the  appointment  of  worse 
men  in  their  place.  ^  The  problem  was  finally  solved,  not  by 
raising  the  provincials  to  a  real  citizenship,  but  by  bringing  Rome 
to  the  level  of  the  provinces  by  overthrowing  the  constitution  and 
giving  her  a  master  like  those  of  the  provinces.  Under  the  con- 
suls the  provinces  had  been  administered  as  the  property  of  Rome ; 
under  the  emperors  they  were  administered  as  integral  parts  of 
Rome. 

These  changes  were  made  gradually.  The  transition  period 
extended  from  the  beginning  of  the  agrarian  movement  of  Tibe- 
rius Gracchus  (133  b.  c.)  to  the  death  of  Augustus  (14  a.  d.).  The 
movement  of  the  Gracchi  was  futile  because  the  ruin  of  the  free 
yeomanry  was  already  complete.  When  foreign  grain  poured 
into  Italy,  not  even  the  extensive  cultivation  of  the  vast  estates  by 
armies  of  slaves  could  be  kept  up;  and  so  these  estates  were  con- 
verted into  pasture  lands.  Further,  there  were  no  longer  many 
free  peasants  to  be  rescued.  They  had  laid  down  their  lives  on 
thousands  of  foreign  battlefields.  The  ohgarchy,  dissolute  from 
long-continued  power  and  prosperity,  no  longer  checked  by  a 
numerous  population  of  free  Romans,  fell  into  countless  fac- 
tional conflicts,  until  Caesar  came  back  with  his  victorious  army 
and  assumed  control.  By  the  end  of  the  long  reign  of  Augustus, 
the  emperor  had  become  the  state  personified.  Every  legislative 
and  executive  function  was  vested  in  him,  and  the  magistrates 
became    his    personal    representatives.     His    household  officials 

I  Plutarch,  Lucullus,  vii,  xx. 


CONTRIBUTION  OF  ANTIQUITY  TO  MODERN  SOCIETY  59 

took  the  place  of  the  private  contractors  and  irresponsible  gov- 
ernors, and  the  system  of  administration  employed  was  the 
admirable  one  which  the  Romans  had  worked  out  in  the  man- 
agement of  their  private  estates.  Since  the  whole  empire  had 
become  the  private  estate  of  the  emperor,  it  would  have  seemed 
intolerable  to  continue  the  old  system  of  irresponsible  adminis- 
tration which  had  permitted  speculators  to  exploit  the  provinces. 
The  emperors  began  to  look  upon  the  empire  as  a  whole,  and 
that  whole  was  larger  than  Rome.  They  could  not  but  take  as 
much  interest  in  the  prosperity  of  some  of  their  fairest  provinces 
as  they  took  in  Rome  itself.  This  was  especially  true  when  the 
emperors,  beginning  with  Trajan,  were  most  frequently  them- 
selves provincials.  Finally,  after  all  freemen  had  come  to  pos- 
sess equal  privileges,  or  rather  to  bear  equal  burdens,  Caracalla's 
universal  enfranchisement  was  but  the  recognition  of  an  accom- 
plished fact.  The  universal  state  was  for  the  first  time  realized. 
The  "framework  was  put  together  for  the  organization  of  wide- 
spread peoples  under  a  single  government.  Ancient  politics 
were  shading  rapidly  off  into  modern."^  The  community  now 
went  beyond  religious,  family,  and  tribal  relationships.  All  in- 
dividuals and  all  tribes  could  now  be  included  within  a  single 
community;  and  this  community,  directed  by  the  emperor,  could 
pursue  its  own  ends.  Each  member  of  the  empire  had  his  place. 
He  need  not  comprehend  the  ends  of  the  state.  If  he  performed  his 
own  functions,  whether  as  government  official,  member  of  a  trading 
corporation,  or  member  of  an  artisans'  college,  the  ends  of  the 
state  would  be  achieved.  The  perfection  of  the  administrative 
machinery  would  assure  that. 

The  Platonic  ideal  was  thus  realized,  but  the  emperor  took 
the  place  of  the  philosopher.  As  in  the  Platonic  state,  no  man's 
particular  activity  could  be  regarded  as  realizing  the  actual  values 
of  life.  The  social  good  could  be  attained  by  the  state,  it  mattered 
not  whether  even  the  philosopher  could  know  that  good.  The 
various  classes  should  perform  their  proper  functions,  and  the 
state  would  secure  the  co-ordination  of  them  all.     No  individual 

'  Wilson,  op.  cit.,  127. 


6o  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

needed  the  virtue  of  SiKaioa-vvr}.  As  with  the  Greeks,  the  universal 
end  was  all-important.  The  particular  ends  were  not  regarded 
as  functionally  related  to  this  end.  They  were  too  likely  to 
appear  to  conflict  with  it;  and,  indeed,  it  was  this  conflict 
between  the  irresponsible,  individualistic  activities  of  so  many 
Roman  capitalists  and  speculators  that  had  resulted  in  the  down- 
fall of  the  republic.  The  co-ordination  was  to  be  secured  in  a 
mechanical  way — by  force,  if  necessary.  But  while  the  Greeks 
could  not  organize  the  means  for  securing  the  universal  end  by 
coercing  all  individuals,  the  Romans,  with  their  great  arranging 
and  ordering  capacity  developed  through  long  military  and 
administrative  experience,  formulated  a  system  by  which  all  indi- 
viduals could  be  overruled  and  brought  into  harmony  with  the 
assumed  ends  of  society.  The  empire  did  not  exist  to  help  a  single 
individual  to  realize  the  values  of  his  life;  it  had  an  ethical  end 
of  its  own  to  which  all  individual  interests  should  be  subservient. 
If  the  emperor  could  be  an  arbitrary  despot,  it  was  only  because 
he  was  the  state  personified. 

How  far  the  Roman  political  organization  was  influenced  by 
Greek  speculative  political  philosophy  can  not  be  stated  with 
certainty.  It  is  certain,  however,  that  from  their  first  contact 
with  the  Greeks  the  Romans  had  been  saturated  with  Greek 
thought.  The  struggle  to  prevent  an  inundation  of  Greek  philos- 
ophers in  i6i  B.  c.  is  an  indication  that  Hellenic  influence  had 
already  become  so  great  as  to  be  feared  by  the  more  conservative 
classes.  By  the  time  of  Cicero  and  Caesar  everybody  wanted 
to  learn  of  the  Greeks.  At  such  a  critical  period,  when  the  con- 
stitution was  being  broken  down  and  a  new  one  formed,  the  Ro- 
mans were  in  a  good  position  to  give  practical  application  to  the 
pohtical  conceptions  of  the  Greeks.  The  influence  of  Greek 
philosophy  in  the  development  of  Roman  law  which  was  going 
on  at  the  same  time  makes  probable  the  conclusion  that  the  cor- 
respondence of  the  Roman  political  development  to  the  Greek 
ideal  was  more  than  a  mere  coincidence.  Without  the  concep- 
tion of  social  organization  furnished  by  the  Greek  philosophers 
it  is  possible  that  the  Roman  political  development  would  have 


CONTRIBUTION  OF  ANTIQUITY  TO  MODERN  SOCIETY  6i 

been  so  long  delayed  as  to  be  too  late  to  serve  its  practical  pur- 
pose; just  as  a  development  of  the  technical  processes  from  the 
bottom  by  the  Greeks  would  doubtless  have  rendered  their  high 
artistic  attainments  impossible. 

The  Roman  Empire,  then,  may  be  regarded  as  the  embodi- 
ment of  Greek  political  conceptions,  rendered  necessary  by  the 
gathering-together  of  all  the  nations  of  the  world  and  the  attempt 
to  hold  them  all  in  one  political  community.  The  conception  of 
the  state  which  had  come  from  the  Socratic  period  would  have 
been  valueless  but  for  the  administrative  capacity  of  the  Romans. 
The  Romans  were  not  interested  in  further  reflection  on  the  or- 
ganization of  the  state.  In  their  whole  history  they  never  pro- 
duced a  philosopher  whose  contributions  are  worth  anything  for 
the  development  of  thought.  They  needed  only  sufficient  thought 
to  start  them.  Then,  while  the  Greeks  continued  to  work  over 
their  concepts  and  became  mere  controversialists,  the  Romans 
went  on  with  the  codification  of  laws  and  organization  of  the 
social  habits,  leaving  reflection  socially  unconscious.  The  Romans 
did  not  solve  the  essential  opposition  between  the  individual  and 
society  which  remained  in  Greek  thought,  but  simply  recog- 
nized society  as  a  whole  and  compelled  the  individual  to  submit 
to  the  whole.  The  end  having  been  set  before  them,  they  could 
turn  their  attention  to  the  perfecting  of  a  system  of  means.  A 
solid  social  framework  could  thus  be  counted  on  to  secure  the 
ends,  though  there  was  always  danger  that  it  might  become  so 
rigid  as  to  prevent  further  development. 

The  development  of  Roman  law. — The  development  of  Roman 
law  was  likewise  determined  by  the  exigencies  arising  from  the 
extension  of  Roman  rule  to  foreign  peoples.  Here,  at  least,  the 
influence  of  Greek  thought  was  unquestionably  important.  We 
have  already  seen  that  the  first  codification  of  the  primitive  prac- 
tices was  the  basis  of  all  later  law.  The  Twelve  Tables  was  for 
a  long  time  the  only  law,  except  a  small  body  of  decrees  of  the 
senate  and  a  few  legal  principles  established  by  agitation.  In 
applying  these  simple  principles  the  praetor,  consciously  or  un- 
consciously, became  the  source  of  new  law.     This  body  of  law, 


62  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

the  jus  civile^  was  applicable  to  Roman  citizens  only,  it  having 
been  inconceivable  that  a  foreigner  should  have  a  part  in  the 
sacred  Roman  customs.  But  with  the  growth  of  intercourse  with 
foreigners,  it  became  necessary  to  have  established  processes  for 
cases  arising  between  two  aliens  or  between  an  alien  and  a  Roman 
citizen.  The  precedents  established  in  these  equity  cases  before 
the  praetor  of  the  foreigners  became  the  jus  gentium.  With  the 
extension  of  the  empire  the  latter  law  became  the  more  important. 
The  subject  localities  were  permitted  to  retain  their  local  insti- 
tutions; but  cases  arising  between  natives  of  the  province  and 
Roman  citizens,  or  between  natives  of  two  different  provinces  or 
even  two  different  localities  of  the  same  province,  had  to  be  judged 
by  the  jus  gentium,  and  the  Roman  governor  had  to  exercise  the 
function  of  the  prcetor  perigrinus.  Thus  a  great  body  of  miscel- 
laneous precedents  strongly  impregnated  with  Roman  legal  prin- 
ciples was  developed.  And  this  body  of  law  came  to  be  regarded 
as  more  natural  and  more  equitable  than  the  jus  civile. 

The  increasing  complexity  of  the  relations  between  the  resi- 
dents of  the  different  sections  of  the  empire  naturally  led  to  an 
examination  of  the  jus  gentium  by  lawyers  and  to  the  use  of  its 
leading  principles  in  the  interpretation  of  Roman  law  in  general. 
At  this  point  the  Roman  lawyers  were  assisted  by  the  conceptions 
borrowed  from  the  Greeks,  and  especially  from  the  Stoics.  The 
Stoics  were  setting  forth  the  idea  of  a  world-citizenship  correspond- 
ing to  their  conception  of  an  ethical  community  of  all  men.  Their 
interest  was  only  in  a  remote  degree  political.  Primarily  they 
looked  for  a  spiritual  and  ethical  universal  empire.^  The  law 
which  the  Stoics  would  apply  in  their  cosmopolitan  community 
should  be  a  law  of  nature,  as  opposed  to  the  artificial  laws  then 
prevailing  in  the  particular  states.  This  law  was  to  be  binding 
upon  a  man  as  a  rational  being  and  a  member  of  the  universal  com- 
munity of  rational  beings.  It  was  to  embody  the  divine  Reason 
and  would  be  superior  in  validity  to  the  mechanical  laws  framed 
by  particular  human  societies.  To  the  Romans,  feeling  as  they 
were  for  a  universal  law  for  their  universal  empire,  this  law  of  na- 

'  Windelband,  op.  cit.,  175-77. 


CONTRIBUTION  OF  ANTIQUITY  TO  MODERN  SOCIETY  63 

ture  was  the  very  thing  needed.  They  recognized  it  in  the  jus 
gentium,  a  body  of  law  not  sprung  from  the  choice  of  individual 
men  but  apparently  inhering  in  the  very  nature  of  things.  This 
conception  of  a  natural  law  was  given  currency  by  Cicero,  and 
following  him  there  arose  philosophical  lawyers  who  sought  out 
the  common  principles  of  the  equity  courts  throughout  the  empire, 
which  they  recognized  as  the  law  of  nature.^ 

Probably,  it  seemed,  these  conceptions  of  justice  which  the  foreign  praetors 
had  found  common  to  the  thought  of  all  the  peoples  with  whom  they  had  come 
into  contact  were  manifestations  of  a  natural,  universal  law  of  reason,  a 
law  of  nature  superior  to  all  systems  contrived  by  men,  implanted  as  a  prin- 
ciple of  life  in  all  hearts.  The  jus  gentium  thus  received  a  peculiar  sanction 
and  took  on  a  dignity  and  importance  such  as  it  had  never  had  so  long  as  it 
was  merely  a  body  of  empirical  generalizations.  Its  supremacy  was  now 
assured.  The  jus  civile  more  and  more  yielded  to  its  influences,  and  more 
and  more  rapidly  the  two  systems  of  law  tended  to  become  but  one.' 

With  the  disappearance  of  Roman  citizenship,  or  rather  with  its 
universalization,  the  jus  civile  necessarily  disappeared,  and  the 
jus  gentium,  reduced  to  some  order,  became  Roman  law.  Thus 
by  the  union  of  the  practical  codes  of  the  Romans  and  the  forma- 
tive legal  conceptions  of  the  Greeks,  Roman  legal  principles, 
which  had  originally  been  developed  in  their  local  application, 
were  universalized. 

The  development  beyond  this  point  was  only  a  matter  of  ampli- 
fication and  arrangement.  This  great  theoretical  development 
was  given  the  law  chiefly  by  private  jurists.  The  opinions  of 
these  great  lawyers  soon  came  to  be  recognized  as  of  greater 
authority  than  the  decisions  of  the  courts.  This  development  by 
commentators  went  on  from  the  time  of  Cicero  until  about  250  a.d. 
After  the  opinions  of  the  jurisconsults  had  been  recognized  by  cus- 
tom for  some  time,  and  no  other  great  lawyers  arose  to  further  ex- 
pand the  law,  the  emperors  gave  legal  sanction  to  them.  In  addition 
to  these  important  legal  opinions,  the  senatus  consulta  and  the  im- 
perial constitutiones  entered  into  the  body  of  the  law.  The  shaping 
forces,  however,  were  found  in  the  opinions  of  the  jurisconsults. 

I  Windelband,  op.  cit.,  177;   Sidgwick,  op.  cit.,  97,  98;  Wilson,  op.  cit.,   136. 
»  Wilson,  op.  cit.,  137. 


64  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

Naturally,  the  difficulty  of  harmonizing  conflicting  opinions 
and  of  choosing  the  real  authorities  in  the  great  mass  of  law  thus 
developed  became  greater  and  greater  as  time  passed.  Hence, 
after  the  legal  principles  had  been  worked  out  thoroughly,  the 
demand  arose  for  codification.  This  demand  was  an  evidence 
of  the  decay  of  the  Roman  state;  for  during  the  period  of  vigor 
and  expansion  of  institutional  life,  codification  was  impossible, 
and  was  probably  never  thought  of.  The  Theodosian  code  of 
the  latter  part  of  the  fourth  century  of  our  era  was  of  considerable 
importance  because  of  its  influence  on  the  earlier  legislation  of 
the  Teutonic  rulers.  But  the  great  codification  was,  of  course, 
that  made  by  Trebonian  at  the  command  of  Justinian  (534  a.  d.). 
This  gave  Roman  law  its  permanent  shape  and  served  as  the 
basis  for  the  new  study  of  Roman  law  by  the  men  of  the  Middle 
Ages.  By  the  fourth  century,  A.  d.,  the  old  republican  legislation, 
the  prsetorial  edicts,  and  the  imperial  constitutions  had  been  al- 
most completely  fused  by  the  jurists.  The  distinction  between 
the  jus  civile  and  the  jus  gentium  was  by  that  time  entirely  oblit- 
erated. In  the  Justinian  code  the  imperial  constitutions  and  all 
other  legislative  acts  became  the  Codex,  the  work  of  the  philosoph- 
ical lawyers  became  the  Pandects,  the  summary  statement  of  the 
whole  was  known  as  the  Institutions,  and  the  special  decrees 
issued  to  fill  gaps  and  clear  the  whole  of  inconsistencies  were  codi- 
fied as  the  Novels.  The  whole  was  the  Corpus  juris  civilis. 
This  constituted  the  definite  legal  contribution  of  the  Romans, 
made  possible  only  when  their  empire  was  passing  away. 

The  contribution  of  the  Romans  was  thus  the  framework  of 
the  institutional  life  of  society.  What  the  Greeks  had  stated  as 
an  ideal  they  practically  realized,  though  in  a  cruder  form —  a 
universal  society  and  a  universal  law.  But  the  social  organiza- 
tion had  been  too  far  perfected  before  the  consummation  of  He- 
brew life  for  the  Hebrew  element  to  be  blended  with  the  others 
in  the  constitution  of  the  empire.  Like  the  Greeks  and  the  He- 
brews, the  Romans  perfected  their  organization  and  their  law 
and  brought  them  to  consciousness,  only  when  the  Roman  life  was 
about  to  pass  way. 


CONTRIBUTION  OF  ANTIQUITY  TO  MODERN  SOCIETY  65 

SUMMARY 

It  is  a  commonplace  that  modem  society  has  received  something 
from  each  of  the  three  ancient  societies  we  have  been  studying; 
but  the  nature  of  that  inheritance  is  seldom  fully  realized.  When 
the  Teutonic  peoples  came  in  contact  with  civihzation,  they  found, 
for  the  first  time  in  the  history  of  the  race,  that  the  ideas  which 
underlay  the  structure  of  human  society  had  been  abstracted. 
Primitive  social  life  consists  in  the  development  of  well-adapted 
habits  in  a  relatively  stable  environment.  For  reasons  already 
given,  these  habits  of  the  Hebrew,  Greek,  and  Roman  peoples 
disintegrated,  and  new  co-ordinations  had  to  be  attempted.  As 
a  result  of  the  previous  development  and  the  peculiarities  of  their 
respective  environments,  a  different  outcome  was  reached  in  each 
of  the  three  cases.  As  a  result  of  reflection  upon  their  decaying 
life,  the  Hebrews  were  able  to  free  the  ethical  impulse  from  the 
old  social  habits,  while  the  Greeks  freed  the  idea  of  the  end  of 
life  from  the  particular  life-activities. 

The  Hebrews  threw  an  emphasis  upon  the  value  of  the  in- 
dividual, because  every  part  of  experience  had  the  Absolute  in 
it  and  every  person  who  was  willing  to  hve  the  moral  life  could 
realize  the  Absolute  in  himself.  And  since  every  part  of  expe- 
rience was  backed  by  the  absolute  principle,  the  individual  was 
given  a  moral  emancipation  from  all  the  trammels  of  the  existing 
evil  world.  But  the  correlative  of  this  doctrine  was  also  stated 
as  an  essential  part  of  the  Christian  program:  the  individual 
could  be  fully  conscious  of  his  own  value  only  in  a  society  in  which 
others  could  realize  the  value  of  their  existence.  The  essential 
identity  of  the  interests  of  the  individual  and  the  interests  of  the 
whole  was  asserted  in  the  doctrine  of  the  kingdom.  This  was 
not  the  assertion  of  an  identity  which  already  existed,  but  of  one 
which  ought  to  exist.  The  ideal  community  could  not  be  stated 
in  specific  terms;  so  the  Christians  had  to  fall  back  on  love  as 
the  motive  to  the  common  life.  The  individual  could  be  stated 
only  in  emotional  terms,  because  the  society  of  which  he  was 
to  be  an  organ  did  not  exist.     The  intellectual  definition  of  an 


66  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

individual  can  be  made  only  in  terms  of  the  society  which  actually 
functions  through  him.  In  the  time  of  the  early  Christians,  society 
was  so  marked  by  its  defects  that  it  could  not  be  accepted  as  the 
real  community.  The  individual's  duties  could  not  be  determined 
by  the  social  life  about  him.  So  the  motive  had  to  be  trusted  to 
work  itself  out  in  the  formation  of  an  actual  society  in  which  the 
interests  of  the  individual  and  of  the  whole  would  be  identical. 

That  which  was  abstracted  by  the  Greeks  was  the  end  of  the 
old  social  habits  rather  than  their  motive.  They  reached  the  con- 
ception of  an  absolute  good  which  society  as  a  whole  was  pursuing. 
This  was  the  essential  principle  in  the  conception  of  the  state. 
Along  with  this  conception  was  that  of  the  free  reason  as  capable 
of  knowing  the  end  and  thus  realizing  it.  This  cutting-loose  of 
the  values  of  the  social  life  from  the  conditions  under  which  they 
had  been  worked  out  by  earlier  peoples  gave  the  world  standards 
which,  on  the  one  hand,  could  be  used  in  the  development  of  Chris- 
tian doctrine,  and,  on  the  other,  could  serve  as  the  basis  of  the 
Roman  Empire.  It  was  in  the  form  of  Christian  doctrine  and 
the  organized  state  that  the  Greek  contribution  could  be  appro- 
priated by  the  Teutons. 

As  we  have  seen,  the  Romans  gave  the  objective  expression  of 
the  Greek  idea  of  a  society  in  which  the  common  ends  should  be 
served  by  all.  The  importance  for  modem  society  of  the  Roman 
political  system  is  not  so  much  that  it  worked  in  the  practical  ad- 
ministration of  the  empire  as  that  it  served  as  a  guide  for  the  or- 
ganization of  Europe.  From  the  nature  of  the  case,  the  Hebrew 
and  Greek  nations  had  to  perish  in  making  their  contributions; 
but  the  Romans  could  work  out  and  enjoy  their  achievements  for 
many  centuries.  But  we  can  see  that  the  empire  had  lost  its 
vitality  long  before  its  fall,  and  that  it  was  only  as  an  ideal  politi- 
cal system  that  it  could  have  much  value  for  Europe.  It  failed 
to  organize  the  freed  impulse  into  new  habits  having  higher  social 
ends.  Without  the  legal  machinery  of  the  Romans  society  would 
have  fallen  to  pieces;  but  it  was  the  Teutons,  not  the  Romans, 
who  finally  organized  the  impulse  for  the  attainment  of  the  com- 
mon values.     One  proof  of  this  is  found  in  the  fact  that  the  undis- 


CONTRIBUTION  OF  ANTIQUITY  TO  MODERN  SOCIETY  67 

turbed  Graeco-Roman  Empire  never  succeeded  in  accomplishing 
this  task.  It  was  as  a  working  model,  chiefly  as  appropriated  by 
the  Church,  that  the  institutional  machinery  of  Rome  could  be  of 
value  in  objectifying  the  community  idea  and  organizing  the  social 
motive  of  love.  And  this  contribution  could  be  made  only  after 
the  empire  had  passed  away. 


CHAPTER  II 
THE  PROBLEM  SET  FOR  MEDIEVAL  SOCIETY 

The  real  importance  of  the  movements  we  have  traced  appears 
when  we  consider  the  influence  of  these  contributions  in  the  devel- 
opment of  modern  civilization.  The  inheritance  from  the  past 
gave  Europe  an  underlying  unity  which  produced  a  common 
civilization  in  the  midst  of  a  diversity  that  would  have  broken 
ancient  society  into  fragments,  or  would  have  led  to  a  conquest 
by  one  group  of  all  others.  Civilization  was  no  longer  carried 
forward  by  a  succession  of  hostile  nations;  the  civilization  of 
the  past  molded  the  diverse  and  hostile  groups  into  one  society. 

The  mediaeval  period  proper  may  be  said  to  begin  with  Augustine 
on  the  reflective  side  and  with  the  fall  of  Rome  on  the  side  of 
social  organization.  But  all  three  of  the  movements  we  have 
considered  had  culminated  long  before  that  time ;  and  for  several 
centuries  certain  tendencies  toward  the  fusion  of  their  results 
may  be  noticed.  The  Greek  development  may  be  said  to  have 
been  completed  by  the  time  Aristotle  had  finished  his  work  (322 
B.  c),  though  the  Stoic  and  Neo-Platonic  movements  continued 
to  extend  the  influence  of  Greek  thought  until  Christianity  gained 
the  supremacy.  The  Hebrew  development  may  be  said  to  have 
been  completed  by  the  time  the  gospel  was  introduced  into  foreign 
lands,  say  by  the  end  of  Paul's  life  (66  a.  d.),  though  the  Chris- 
tian movement  did  not  secure  its  dogmatic  statement  and  gain 
political  recognition  until  the  conversion  of  Constantine.  The 
Roman  development  may  be  said  to  have  been  completed  by 
the  time  the  franchise  was  extended  to  all  free  inhabitants  of  the 
empire  by  Caracalla  (212  a.  d.),  though  the  Empire  of  the  West 
lingered  on  until  the  city  of  Rome  fell  into  the  hands  of  Odoacer 
in  476,  and  the  Justinian  code  was  not  completed  until  534. 
During  the  centuries  between  the  death  of  Jesus  and  the  fall  of 
Rome,  the  ideas  underlying  the  three  ancient  civilizations  were 

68 


THE  PROBLEM  SET  FOR  MEDLEVAL  SOCIETY  69 

being  blended  in  the  thought  of  the  Church  and  were  receiving 
the  shape  in  which  they  were  to  be  handed  over  to  the  barbarians. 

CHRISTIAN  DOCTRINE  AND  POLICY  TO  THE  FALL  OF  ROME 

We  have  seen  that  Jesus  asserted  the  ultimate  value  of  the 
individual  and  the  essential  identity  of  the  interests  of  the  indi- 
vidual and  of  society.  Yet  this  statement  had  to  be  formal; 
for  the  individual  can  be  defined  only  in  terms  of  his  rights  and 
duties  in  society,  and  the  existing  society  did  not  make  possible 
the  identification  of  individual  and  social  interests.  Such  content 
as  could  be  given  to  the  statement  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven  had 
to  be  in  negative  terms.  The  general  statement  of  the  new  com- 
mandment as  to  loving  enemies  was  set  over  against  the  old 
lex  talioniSy  but  what  was  involved  in  loving  an  enemy  could  not 
be  stated.  Such  a  statement  would  involve  a  complete  program 
for  social  reconstruction,  and  that  was  manifestly  impossible  at 
the  time.  The  Christian  spirit  could  be  inculcated,  but  its  method 
of  objectification  could  not  be  stated  positively  until  the  social 
transformation  had  itself  taken  place.  It  can  not  be  too  fre- 
quently reiterated  that  the  individual  can  not  be  defined  except 
in  terms  of  his  social  functions,  nor  society  except  in  terms  of  the 
co-ordination  of  individual  activities. 

At  the  very  beginning,  the  importance  of  spreading  the  knowl- 
edge of  Christian  principles  seemed  so  great  that  the  gap  between 
the  formal  statement  of  the  ideal  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven  and 
its  application  to  existing  society  was  scarcely  noticed.  The 
disciples  went  everywhere  preaching  the  gospel  of  the  kingdom, 
telling  of  that  ideal  state  in  which  every  man  is  a  son  of  God  and 
every  man  so  completely  the  brother  of  every  other  man  that  his 
own  actions  express  the  life  of  the  whole  community.  But  after 
this  work  had  gone  on  for  some  time  and  many  men  had  been 
gathered  together  under  the  influence  of  the  motive  of  Christian 
love,  it  became  necessary  to  define  the  manner  in  which  the 
motive  was  to  work  itself  out  in  the  reconstruction  of  society. 
The  first  solution  of  the  problem  was  one  which  simply  postponed 
the  necessity  of  obtaining  a  real  content  for  the  Christian  prin- 


70  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

ciples;  that  is,  it  was  found  in  the  idea  of  the  speedy  return  of 
Jesus.  Since  the  King  was  soon  to  return  to  give  detailed  direc- 
tions for  the  establishment  of  the  kingdom,  it  was  necessary, 
meanwhile,  simply  to  prepare  men  to  receive  him.  During  this 
waiting  period,  it  would  be  sufficient  to  abstain  from  those  prac- 
tices which  were  manifestly  inconsistent  with  the  Christian  ideal. 
If  the  New  Jerusalem  was  soon  to  come,  it  was  unnecessary  to 
find  a  positive  content  for  the  statement  of  the  conception  of  the 
kingdom.  While  waiting  for  the  coming  of  the  Lord,  Christians 
might  live  on  in  accordance  with  the  practices  of  society,  simply 
avoiding  those  acts  which  were  plainly  contradictory  to  the  new 
ideal.  Slaves  were  to  remain  slaves;  family  relations  were  to 
continue  as  before,  though  they  were  scarcely  worth  while ;  buying 
and  selling  might  go  on.*  So  the  positive  content  of  the  conception 
of  the  individual  and  his  relation  to  society  could  no  more  be  given 
by  the  Christian  system  than  by  the  Greek  and  Roman  systems. 

Since  no  positive  content  was  at  once  necessary,  this  reorgani- 
zation of  society  on  the  basis  of  willingness  to  seek  the  welfare 
of  brethren  and  to  do  the  will  of  the  Lord  when  he  should  return 
could  go  on  in  the  consciousness  of  all  men.  Living  in  expecta- 
tion of  the  new  social  system  was  possible  for  the  masses.  Yet 
Christianity  had  almost  no  power  to  reorganize  Roman  society. 
Beyond  the  expectancy  of  a  new  society,  Christianity  was  as 
powerless  as  Roman  society  itself.  It  was  in  a  newly  developing 
society  that  Christianity  could  become  an  organizing  power. 

As  time  went  on,  however,  it  became  necessary  to  give  the 
Christian  principles  a  more  definite  content.  This  necessity 
first  arose  from  the  extension  of  Christianity  to  the  gentiles. 
Later,  the  fact  that  Jesus  did  not  return  created  a  still  greater 
demand  for  a  positive  statement.  Jesus  had  been  directly  inter- 
ested only  in  the  application  of  his  universal  principle  within 
the  particular  community  of  the  Hebrews.  Except  in  the  "Great 
Commission" — and  the  authenticity  of  that  statement  has  been 
questioned  by  some  biblical  scholars — Jesus  did  not  assert  the 
universahty  of  his  principle  of  the  kingdom.    He  turned  aside 

>  Cf.  I  Cor.,  chap  7 


THE  PROBLEM  SET  FOR  MEDIEVAL  SOCIETY  71 

from  opportunities  to  extend  his  kingdom  beyond  the  "house 
of  Israel,"*  though  he  was  willing  to  deal  with  Samaritans.  He 
asserted  a  truly  universal  principle,  but  did  not  abstract  it  from 
the  particular.  The  Jerusalem  Christians,  although  they  felt 
that  the  old  was  done  away,  still  sought  to  carry  the  content  of 
the  old  Jewish  organization  into  the  new,  while  waiting  in  expec- 
tancy for  the  miraculous  return  of  Jesus.  The  experience  of  the 
Pauline  Christians  caused  them  to  raise  the  question  whether 
the  coming  of  the  new  had  not  already  done  away  with  the  old. 
They  saw  what  the  consequence  would  be  if  they  should  attempt  to 
compel  the  gentile  converts  to  pass  through  the  Jewish  rites. 
During  his  conflict  with  the  Petrine  element,  Paul  passed  succes- 
sively to  a  more  and  more  completely  generahzed  position.  He 
saw  that  it  was  impossible  to  extend  the  Christian  conceptions  to 
all  men  and  yet  make  them  conform  to  the  Jewish  practices." 
So,  over  against  the  concept  of  law — the  ceremonial  and  moral 
practices  which  had  to  be  conformed  to  by  the  righteous  man — 
which  meant  the  continued  moral  supremacy  of  the  Jews,  Paul 
set  up  the  concept  of  spirit.  This,  in  effect,  meant  that  the 
Absolute  within  the  individual  creates  its  own  law. 

Thus  the  generahzation  which  had  been  made  within  a  par- 
ticular community  became  a  true  universal  when  it  passed  beyond 
that  conmiunity.  The  particular  society  which  had  been  inter- 
preted by  it  was  the  Jewish  society,  the  hope  being  entertained 
that  its  glaring  faults  could  soon  be  removed.  With  the  extension  • 
of  Christianity,  a  new  particular  had  to  be  defined.  This  was 
first  done  negatively:  "There  is  neither  Jew  nor  Greek,  bond 
nor  free. "  The  behef  in  the  speedy  return  of  Jesus,  held  by  the 
Pauline  as  well  as  by  the  Jerusalem  Christians,  still  made  it 
unnecessary  to  find  a  positive  definition.  Nevertheless,  this 
Christian  community  was  much  broader  than  the  Jewish- Chris- 
tian cormnunity;  and  the  missionary  movement  prepared  the 
Christians  for  a  positive  statement  of  their  position  when  it 
appeared  that  they  could  no  longer  look  for  the  return  of  the  Lord. 

I  Cf.  Matt.  10:5-7;    14:21-28;   etc. 

»  Cf.  the  argiament  in  the  writings  which  belong  to  this  period  of  Paul's  activity, 
taken  in  the  order  of  their  appearance:  I  and  II  Corinthians,  Galatians,  Romans. 


7a  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

When  it  finally  became  apparent  that  Jesus  was  not  soon  to 
return  to  earth,  the  Christians  found  it  necessary  to  give  their 
principles  a  more  positive  content.  The  mere  preaching  of  the 
good  tidings  of  the  approach  of  the  ideal  kingdom  lost  its  force. 
The  positive  content  was  secured,  on  the  theological  side,  by 
absorbing  the  intellectual  structure  of  the  Greeks,  and  on  the 
side  of  organization,  by  developing  the  Church  on  the  model 
of  the  Roman  Empire.  On  the  theological  side  the  development 
was  the  counterpart  of  the  Greek  logic.  The  concepts  having 
been  worked  out  by  the  Greeks,  the  Christian  theologians  could 
use  them  as  the  framework  for  the  doctrines  of  Christianity. 
Beginning  with  Justin — and  even  before  his  time  the  Greek 
influence  had  been  felt — a  systematic  attempt  was  made  to  adapt 
the  Christian  system  to  the  Greek  conceptions,  in  order  to  show 
that  the  former  was  the  truest  philosophy.  Even  the  anti-ration- 
alistic reaction  of  such  men  as  Tertulhan  employed  the  philo- 
sophical method.  From  the  time  of  Clement  of  Alexandria 
and  Origen,  in  the  first  half  of  the  third  century,  a  positive 
system  of  Christian  theology  based  on  Greek  philosophy  was 
maintained. 

This  acceptance  of  Greek  philosophy  as  the  framework  of 
Christian  theology  was  most  natural.  Jewish  Christianity  had 
failed.  There  was  nothing  on  which  to  build  in  the  Jewish 
nation;  and  the  Jewish-Christian  community  which  survived 
after  the  universality  of  Christianity  had  asserted  itself  in  the 
establishment  of  churches  among  the  gentiles  had  no  influence 
in  the  development  of  doctrine  or  organization.^  The  doctrinal 
development  took  place  under  Greek  influence.  This  was  partly 
because  Greek  philosophy  in  later  Platonism  and  Stoicism,  and 
especially  in  its  Alexandrian  developments,  was  tending  toward 
religion,  and  was  therefore  ready  to  embrace  Christianity  which 
seemed  to  meet  so  many  of  its  demands.  However,  the  assimila- 
tion of  Christianity  led  rather  to  Gnosticism  than  to  the  forms  of 
Christian  doctrine  which  secured  a  permanent  footing.  It  was 
by   the   Apologists — the   conservatives   who   accepted   the   new 

»  Hamack,  History  of  Dogma,  I,  287-95. 


THE  PROBLEM  SET  FOR  MEDLEVAL  SOCIETY  73 

revelation  as  sufficient  in  itself  for  them — that  the  Jewish  and 
Greek  elements  were  most  efifectually  blended.  These  men  con- 
ceived of  themselves  as  engaged  in  a  conflict  with  Greek  phi- 
losophy; but  since  Christianity  had  become  detached  from  the 
Jewish  world  and  was  endeavoring  to  conquer  the  Grseco-Roman 
world,  they  were  compelled  to  couch  their  message  in  terms  of 
Greek  thought.^  Thus,  to  justify  their  faith,  the  Apologists 
began  a  movement  which  resulted  in  the  formulation  of  Christian 
doctrine  in  terms  of  Greek  philosophy. 

For  our  present  purpose,  it  is  unnecessary  to  consider  this 
development  in  detail."  It  is  sufficient  to  note  that  a  positive 
content  was  thus  given  to  Christianity  and  a  system  of  doctrines 
developed.  But  like  the  post-Aristotelian  philosophers,  the  Greek 
Christians  were  content  to  become  mere  controversialists,  leaving 
the  executive  side  of  life  out  of  consideration.  Having  certain 
concepts  given,  they  could  go  on  manipulating  these  and  perfecting 
their  speculative  doctrines  without  much  reference  to  the  social 
life.  It  should  be  remembered,  however,  that  the  social  condi- 
tions were  such  that  no  other  course  was  open  to  them,  if  they 
were  to  give  Christianity  any  intellectual  content  whatever. 
Furthermore,  it  must  be  remembered  that  their  discussions  were 
not  altogether  fruitless  for  western  Europe.  After  the  doctrines 
had  been  pretty  fully  worked  out  and  their  controversies  were 
becoming  intolerable,  the  Roman  Christians,  who  would  never 
have  worked  out  the  doctrines  for  themselves  took  them  from 
the  Greeks,  ignored  the  intellectual  processes  by  which  they  had 
been  attained,  and  turned  them  into  dogmas,  declaring  that 
they  had  to  be  accepted  as  they  were  or  the  individual  would  be 
thrust  outside  the  pale  of  salvation.  Thus,  a  practical  use  was 
made  of  the  theological  development,  an  intellectual  basis  was 
given  to  the  Christian  system,  and  the  vigorous,  though  narrow, 
doctrinal  development  of  the  Middle  Ages  was  made  possible.* 

I  Harnack,  op.  cit.,  I,  46-48. 

»  For  an  account  of  the  development  of  doctrine,  vide  Harnack,  op.  cit.,  II, 
169  ff.,  etc. 

3  Vide  Hatch,  Influence  0}  Greek  Ideas  and  Usages  upon  the  Christian  Churchy 
passim;    Windelband,  op.  cit,,  210-62. 


74  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

Of  more  interest  for  our  purpose,  because  in  closer  relation 
with  social  conditions,  was  the  development  of  the  Church.  The 
principle  of  community  of  interests  was  expressed  most  clearly 
by  Jesus  in  terms  of  the  family  relationship  generalized  to  take 
in  the  whole  community.  But  the  smaller,  simpler  unit  could 
not  be  substituted  for  the  larger,  more  complex  one.  The  brotherly 
relationship  could  be  assumed  only  as  an  ideal.  Its  reaUzation 
was  possible  only  in  emotional  terms,  that  is,  in  a  brotherly  feel- 
ing, in  a  wiUingness  to  act  in  a  fraternal  manner,  rather  than  in 
the  activities  of  everyday  social  life.  An  emotional  attitude 
was  adopted  toward  others  similar  to  the  attitude  of  members 
of  a  family  toward  one  another.  Man  could  be  a  brother  to  every 
other  man,  not  immediately  through  the  activities  of  social  life, 
but  mediately  through  the  emotional  attitude  which  arose  because 
of  the  recognition  of  a  common  sonship  of  God.^  The  attempt 
to  realize  the  brotherly  relationship  immediately  in  the  exercise 
of  social  functions  would  inevitably  have  led  to  martyrdom,  as  it 
had  done  in  the  case  of  Jesus;  but  in  the  absorption  of  his  con- 
sciousness in  the  Father  of  all  the  individual  could  realize  himself 
as  a  member  of  the  ideal  community,  the  kingdom  of  heaven. 

In  its  extreme  form  this  attitude  led  to  asceticism,  where  the 
individual  was  swallowed  up  in  contemplation  of  God.  This,  of 
course,  could  happen  only  in  a  few  individual  instances,  and 
could  not  happen  at  all  until  the  mere  proclamation  of  the  good 
tidings  could  no  longer  hold  the  interest,  and  a  more  definite 
content  had  to  be  found  for  the  new  system.  In  the  earlier  stages 
of  the  Christian  movement,  and,  indeed,  with  the  masses  at  all 
times,  the  natural  tendency  was  for  men  who  had  come  to  this 
consciousness  of  brotherhood  to  form  a  community  within  the 
society  in  which  they  lived.  The  Church  represented  a  society 
within  which  the  emotional  generalization  of  brotherhood  should 
pass  over  into  one  of  action.  It  was  a  community  within  which 
the  interests  of  the  individual  should  be  identical  with  the  interests 
of  the  whole  group. 

»  Mead.  For  an  acknowledgment  of  my  indebtedness,  see  statement  in 
Preface. 


THE  PROBLEM  SET  FOR  MEDLEVAL  SOCIETY  75 

Jesus  had  demanded  that  men  should  live  directly  with  refer- 
ence to  the  law  of  the  kingdom.  He  felt  that  the  men  who  had 
been  gathered  about  him  were  to  make  a  moral  conquest  of  the 
world;  but  he  had  no  interest  in  the  formation  of  an  association 
which  should  be  anything  more  than  a  company  of  people  of 
like  interests.  He  did  not  form  a  church.^  The  members  of 
the  company  of  disciples  were  not  to  find  their  ethical  complete- 
ness in  any  peculiar  association,  but  were  immediately  to  live  out 
the  principles  he  stated,  even  as  he  had  done.  That  he  hoped 
for  the  realization  of  the  ideal  social  order  in  this  world  there  can 
be  no  doubt.'  The  earliest  disciples  came  together  spontane- 
ously in  a  communistic  association.  This  latter  was  an  attempt 
at  the  construction  of  a  society  which  should  permit  the  Christian 
conduct  of  life.  An  actual  rational  society  was  to  be  substituted 
for  one  in  which  the  community  and  the  individual  were  in 
hopeless  conflict.  In  that  communistic  society  the  generalization 
of  the  family  relationship  could  be  carried  out  into  external  rela- 
tions. The  conception  of  the  Church  as  distinct  from  the  natural 
society  was  not  found  in  the  earlier  associations  of  disciples. 
That  conception  naturally  arose  from  the  distinction  between 
the  ideal  society  represented  by  the  Christians  and  the  larger 
society. 

However,  the  formation  of  the  Church  did  not  give  the  Chris- 
tians a  complete  society  in  which  each  individual  could  realize 
in  actual  life  the  brotherly  relation.  Most  of  them  had  to  come 
into  daily  relations  with  the  outside  world.  Family  relations 
and  daily  business  affairs  made  it  impossible  for  the  Christians 
wholly  to  confine  their  activities  to  the  narrower  community 
which  they  had  formed.     This  diflSculty  was  recognized  even  in 

'  That  is,  he  formed  no  association  of  a  sacerdotal  sort.  His  interest  was 
in  the  kingdom,  rather  than  the  church;  and  that  ideal  association  was  to  include 
the  whole  society  to  which  the  individual  belonged.  His  two  references  to  the 
ecclesia  give  no  indication  of  an  interest  in  such  an  association  as  that  which  has 
been  developed  in  his  name.     Cf.  Matt.  i6:i8;    18:17. 

»  For  a  good  statement  of  Jesus'  conception  of  the  ideal  social  order,  with 
which  in  the  main  the  above  is  in  accord,  vide  Mathews,  "  Christian  Sociology, " 
II,  American  Journal  of  Sociology,  I,  359-80.  These  articles  have  since  appeared 
in  book  form. 


76  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

the  time  of  Paul;*  and  as  the  Christian  circle  widened  and  came 
to  include  many  less  zealous  individuals,  it  became  more  and  more 
difl5cult  to  maintain  a  separate  community.  Since  a  smaller 
community  in  which  the  Christian  motive  could  work  itself  out 
in  activity  was  impossible,  the  Christians  were  thrown  back  again 
upon  the  emotional  realization  of  the  brotherhood  of  man.  This 
attitude  became  even  more  necessary  after  hope  of  the  Lord's 
speedy  return  was  abandoned.  With  the  abandonment  of  that 
hope,  the  speedy  realization  of  the  kingdom  on  earth  became 
hopeless,  and  the  New  Jerusalem  was  transferred  from  this 
world  to  the  next.  The  ideal  kingdom  could  be  realized  in  this 
world  only  in  emotional  terms.  The  solution  of  the  social  prob- 
lem was  found  only  in  the  individual  emotional  consciousness. 
To  reach  his  brother  in  this  world,  the  individual  had  to  go,  as  it 
were,  to  heaven,  and  there  find  the  lines  of  relationship  with  him 
in  the  fact  of  a  common  sonship. 

Now  it  was  only  the  high-strung  emotional  nature  which  could 
maintain  this  attitude  continuously.  The  masses  had  to  be 
absorbed  in  the  ordinary  activities  of  social  life,  however  unideal 
those  activities  might  be.  Only  the  exceptional  man  could 
remain  absorbed  in  contemplation  of  God  and  in  reflection  upon 
his  sonship,  the  reflex  of  which  gave  him  the  recognition  of  the 
brotherhood  of  mankind.  There  thus  arose  a  Christian  aristoc- 
racy which  was  parallel  with  the  Greek  aristocracy.  Although 
the  movement  of  Jesus  was  extremely  democratic,  the  fact  that 
it  was  based  on  feelings  which  could  not  be  objectified  in  social 
activity  soon  rendered  it  as  aristocratic  as  the  Greek  intellectual 
movement  had  been.  The  saint  was  the  counterpart  of  the  phi- 
losopher. Naturally  the  Church  adapted  itself  to  the  compara- 
tively few  men  who  were  capable  of  the  continued  emotional 
consciousness  of  social  relations.  The  ascetics  maintained  a 
more  highly  strung  emotional  state  than  any  others  and  were 
therefore  the  greatest  saints;  but  it  was  in  this  emotional  realiza- 
tion of  the  kingdom  that  the  priesthood  also  found  its  meaning.' 

»  Cf.  Rom.,  chap.  14;  I  Cor.,  chaps.  7  and  8. 
»  Mead,  vide  Preface. 


THE  PROBLEM  SET  FOR  MEDLEVAL  SOCIETY  77 

Everybody  was  not  capable  of  this  emotional  realization  of  son- 
ship.  For  the  masses  it  had  to  be  vicarious.  It  was  sufficient 
if  they  came  to  catch  occasional  glimpses  of  the  great  ideal,  and 
should  recognize  the  importance  of  keeping  it  before  the  world. 
The  masses  had  dropped,  for  the  most  part,  into  the  ordinary 
round  of  social  activities,  and  the  ideal  relationships  could  be 
held  only  in  the  consciousness,  of  the  exceptional  men  of  the 
character  described.  As  the  Christian  circle  widened,  a  larger 
and  larger  proportion  of  the  disciples  became  like  the  world 
about  them,  merely  recognizing  the  ideal  social  order  in  its  general 
outlines,  and  leaving  to  the  select  few  the  emotional  realization 
of  the  kingdom  which  could  enable  them  to  keep  alive  the  ideal 
until  it  could  be  realized  in  a  different  manner.  The  Christians 
therefore  grouped  themselves  about  the  religious  aristocracy 
composed  of  men  who  could  come  into  this  immediate  relation- 
ship with  God  and  into  this  mediate  relationship  with  the  human 
family,  and  who  yet  did  not  rise  to  the  highest  absorption  in  God 
which  ignores  the  human  family,  as  was  the  case  with  the  ascetics. 
This  aristocracy  soon  formed  itself  into  a  hierarchy  modeled 
after  the  Roman  administrative  system.  This  social  meaning 
of  the  priesthood  is  the  explanation  of  the  development  of  the 
Church.  After  the  system  was  perfected  and  the  priesthood 
had  become  a  profession,  many  men  who  had  none  of  the  emo- 
tional characteristics  described  might  enter  it;  but  the  social 
conditions  continued  to  cause  the  masses  to  demand  such  an 
institution,  even  after  the  sincerity  of  many  of  the  priests  came 
to  be  doubted.  In  the  West  the  administrative  system  constituted 
the  chief  content  of  the  Christian  principles,  while  in  the  East 
the  doctrines  constituted  such  a  content;  but  the  hierarchy  origi- 
nated in  the  East  and  had  a  very  important  place  there,  while 
the  doctrines  were  likewise  of  great  importance  in  the  West. 

This  development  was  not  only  conditioned  by  the  social 
situation;  it  was  absolutely  unavoidable  if  the  Christian  contri- 
bution was  to  remain  in  the  world  at  all.  The  intellectual  defi- 
nition of  the  individual  and  society — for  the  two  are  correlative — 
could  come  only  with  the  recognition  of  the  social  value  of  the 


78  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

essential  functions  of  life.  This  was  manifestly  impossible  in 
the  Graeco-Roman  Empire.  At  that  time  the  consciousness  of 
the  brotherly  relationship  with  fellow-men,  of  the  organic  rela- 
tions of  all  men  in  society,  could  be  maintained  only  through 
the  consciousness  of  sonship.  The  right  social  attitude  could 
be  maintained  only  on  the  side  of  feeling,  and  the  true  social 
relations  could  be  defined  only  in  emotional  terms.  The  passing 
from  this  emotional  definition  to  an  intellectual  definition  consti- 
tuted the  development  of  the  Middle  Ages.  When  this  transition 
was  accomplished,  the  vicarious  realization  of  the  true  social 
relations  was  no  longer  necessary,  and  so  the  Reformation  became 
natural. 

This  development,  however,  belonged  exclusively  to  the  West. 
In  the  East,  where  conditions  were  fitted,  it  did  not  occur.  The 
barbarians  did  not  threaten  the  stability  of  society  as  they  did 
in  the  West,  and  when  they  finally  overthrew  it,  they  were  not 
assimilated  by  Christianity.  The  general  social  order  could  be 
counted  on  by  the  individual.  Society  was  not  likely  to  be  swept 
away  from  around  him.  Nor,  on  the  other  hand,  could  he  hope 
to  change  existing  conditions  and  bring  them  into  conformity 
with  any  ideal  of  the  heavenly  kingdom.  The  problem  then 
became  the  ordering  of  life  within  a  fixed  society.  This 
view  was  naturally  strengthened  when  Christianity  became  the 
state  religion.  The  possibility  of  social  improvement  was  there- 
after not  recognized.  The  relation  to  existing  society  was  that 
of  toleration.  Whatever  higher  ideals  were  cherished  were 
regarded  as  incapable  of  realization  in  this  world.  Not  only 
was  the  New  Jerusalem  pushed  beyond  this  life;  it  was  neither 
expected  nor  desired  that  anything  approaching  its  counterpart 
should  ever  be  found  on  earth.  With  the  conversion  of  the  emperor 
the  toleration  of  existing  conditions  became  acquiescence.  The 
world  as  it  stood  could  be  counted  on.  The  powers  that  be  were 
ordained  of  God.  They  were  not  to  be  changed  until  the  heavenly 
kingdom  was  entered.  The  religious  life  of  the  masses  came  to 
consist  largely  in  conformity  to  ritual  which  had  for  its  function 
the  external  ordering  of  the  individual  life  in  preparation  for 


THE  PROBLEM  SET  FOR  MEDLEVAL  SOCIETY  79 

some  higher  life  in  the  world  to  come.  No  one  felt  that  it  was 
possible  to  reconstruct  society.  The  superior  Christians  could 
only  come  out  from  the  world  and  await  the  coming  of  the  Lord; 
and  under  the  fixed  social  conditions  that  existed  in  the  East, 
it  was  but  natural  that  asceticism  should  become  more  marked 
than  it  was  in  the  disorganized  West.  The  attitude  was  one  of 
expectancy.  This  attitude  was  characteristic  of  theology  as 
long  as  the  Empire  of  the  West  stood,  from  Paul  to  Augustine.  It 
was  maintained  in  the  East  after  the  fall  of  Rome. 

In  the  West,  however,  the  development  was  of  a  different 
nature.  There  the  irruptions  of  the  Teutonic  peoples  destroyed 
the  existing  society  and  imposed  upon  the  Christians  the  duty 
of  making  a  new  society  of  the  wild  tribes  which  had  come  into 
the  Empire.  Christianity  had  been  unable  to  reorganize  the 
Graeco-Roman  Empire.  It  did  not  attempt  it  in  theory  or  prac- 
tice. But  after  the  fall  of  the  Empire  the  Church  became  a 
civilizing  agency,  carrying  the  old  civiHzation  over  into  the  newly 
established  barbarian  society.  The  work  was  not  at  once  recog- 
nized as  an  attempt  to  reorganize  society.  Theology  continued 
to  occupy  the  expectant  position  that  has  been  described.  The 
kingdom  of  heaven  was  to  be  realized  only  in  the  next  world. 
Nevertheless,  the  possibility  of  reorganization  here  and  there 
carried  the  Church  over  into  a  new  activity.  This  new  activity 
was  possible  both  because  the  individual  found  society  falling 
away  from  around  him,  and  so  was  obliged  to  reconstruct  a  new 
society;  and  because  the  barbarians  who  broke  into  the  Empire 
desired  to  appropriate  the  splendid  civilization  they  found  there. 

THE   BEGINNINGS   OF  THE  MIDDLE  AGES 

The  possibility  of  this  reconstructing  activity  proceeding 
from  the  individual  first  appears  in  the  writings  of  Augustine. 
Augustine  was  a  philosopher  before  he  became  a  theologian. 
As  a  philosopher  he  would  interpret  reality  from  the  standpoint 
of  the  self;  and  he  emphasized  the  active  will  of  the  individual 
as  the  chief  force  in  human  affairs.  As  a  theologian  he  found 
it  necessary  to  establish  the  authority  of  the  Church;    and  so  he 


8o  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

emphasized  the  freedom  of  the  divine  will  and  changed  the 
doctrine  of  the  individual's  freedom  almost  to  determinism. 
Yet  the  individual  supported  by  divine  grace  served  practically 
the  same  purpose  in  his  social  philosophy  that  a  perfectly  free 
individual  could  have  done.  He  never  consciously  recognized 
the  possibility  of  reconstructing  society,  but  the  possibility  was 
implied  in  his  individual.  Society  was  going  to  pieces.  When 
men  were  saying  that  the  older  times  when  the  heathen  gods 
were  worshiped  were  better  than  theirs,  the  great  bishop  of 
Hippo  wrote  his  Civitas  Dei  to  justify  the  ways  of  God  to  man. 
Rome  had  been  sacked  but  a  few  years  before  he  began  the  work, 
and  many  thoughtful  people  were  beginning  to  realize  that  the 
old  social  order  must  soon  be  dissolved.  The  inability  of  man  to 
control  the  existing  social  order  threw  Augustine  back  on  the  will 
of  God  as  the  explanation  of  the  development  of  human  afifairs. 
By  God's  foreordination  the  elect,  since  the  faU  of  Adam,  had 
been  gathered  out  of  the  world;  and  now  while  the  kingdoms 
of  this  world  were  breaking  up,  the  kingdom  of  God  might  go 
on  increasing.  This  kingdom  which  had  from  the  first  grown 
up  beside  the  kingdoms  of  the  world  would  outlast  them  all. 

Immutable  and  invincible  amidst  all  the  instability,  agitation,  and  strife 
of  himian  things,  it  is  continually  drawing  into  itself  its  predestined  number 
of  inhabitants  out  of  all  nations,  tribes,  and  peoples.  When  the  unknown 
hour  arrives  which  sees  their  number  completed,  the  last  of  the  elect  passed 
from  the  city  of  the  world  into  that  of  God,  then  cometh  Christ  to  judge  the 
quick  and  the  dead,  and  finally  to  separate  the  good  from  the  evil;  and  at 
his  word,  above  the  ruins  of  those  cities  of  the  world  that  have  passed  away 
into  the  darkness  of  their  eternal  doom,  there  rises  in  the  light  of  God's  love, 
on  a  new  and  purified  earth,  a  new,  peaceful,  and  perfectly  happy  city  which 
is  imperishable,  and  which  contains  all  the  truly  good  men  who  have  ever 
lived.' 

This  city  of  God  was  not  to  be  established  here.  In  this 
Augustine  agreed  with  the  eastern  Christians.  He  did  not  con- 
sciously look  for  a  reconstruction  of  society.  But  the  individual 
whom  he  had  left,  while  society  was  falling  away  from  around 
him,  was  one  from  whom  might  proceed  a  reconstruction.    The 

»  Flint,  History  of  the  Philosophy  of  History,  156,  157. 


THE  PROBLEM  SET  FOR  MEDLEVAL  SOCIETY  8i 

man  who  was  sustained  by  divine  grace  might  feel  imdisturbed 
by  the  disorder  which  existed  in  society,  because  the  City  of  God 
was  estabhshed  on  firm  foundations  and  was  a  commonwealth 
in  which  the  elect  could  live  harmoniously.  Thus,  the  conception 
of  the  Church  furnished  the  ideal  of  the  new  city,  and  the  emphasis 
was  thrown  on  the  individual  as  the  only  certain  element  left  to 
enter  into  this  new  commonwealth.  The  importance  of  insti- 
tutional life  was  felt,  but  only  the  Christian  individuals  were  left 
as  material  of  which  the  new  institutions  could  be  constructed. 
The  only  sure  thing  in  the  world  was  the  inner  experience  of  the 
individual.^  Although  Augustine  did  not  himself  look  for  a 
reconstruction  of  society,  the  implication  of  such  a  reconstruction 
was  in  the  individual  whom  he  emphasized.  The  individual 
who  would  live  the  life  of  existing  society  must  inevitably  go  to 
ruin;  yet  Augustine  saw  that  the  new  social  organization,  wherever 
it  was  to  be,  had  to  grow  out  of  the  individual.  The  world  could 
no  longer  be  counted  on  as  it  stood.  The  individual  was  left, 
and  society  had  fallen  away  from  around  him.  Therefore  any 
reconstruction  had  to  be  from  the  standpoint  of  the  individual 
who  was  left.  Augustine  would  have  this  new  social  organization 
in  heaven,  and  urged  the  individuals  to  flee  from  the  existing 
world  in  order  to  attain  to  righteousness. 

Now  the  people  of  western  Europe  were  too  youthful  to  flee 
from  the  world,  even  when  their  religion  made  them  believe 
that  the  ideal  society  could  be  realized  only  beyond  the  grave. 
So  the  ideal  of  the  new  social  order  growing  out  of  the  individual 
could  be  accepted;  but  instead  of  fleeing  from  the  world,  as 
Augustine  recommended,  they  attempted  to  reconstruct  the  world 
to  meet  the  needs  of  the  individual  and  to  reaUze  the  ideal  of 
Christianity.  Along  with  an  acknowledged  sense  of  weakness 
and  humility,  these  people  had  a  consciousness  of  strength  which 
they  never  admitted  even  to  themselves.  Men  desired  nothing 
in  the  world,  yet  set  themselves  to  conquer  the  world.  Western 
monasticism,  which  arose  from  the  same  conditions  that  had 
inspired  Augustine,  became  a  civilizing  agency,  always  keeping 

'  Windelband,  op.  cit.,  270,  276. 


82  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

in  contact  with  the  social  life  and  invariably  coming  back  to  social 
life,  even  when  its  promoters  sought  to  withdraw  completely 
from  it.  This  world  was  regarded  as  nothing,  yet  the  Church 
desired  to  get  possession  of  as  much  of  it  as  possible,  and  to  bring 
its  populations  into  the  Christian  fold.  On  the  part  of  the  Church, 
then,  representing  the  ideals  which  had  come  down  from  the  past, 
there  was  a  growing  feeling  that  the  existing  chaotic  society  should 
be  reorganized  on  the  basis  of  those  ideals.  The  ability  of  the 
Church  to  undertake  this  task  was  due  to  the  perfection  of  its 
administrative  machinery;  and  the  perfection  of  this  machinery 
is  accounted  for,  partly  by  the  survival  of  some  remnant  of  the 
old  Roman  practical  genius,  partly  by  the  fact  that  the  Church 
was  left  to  manage  its  own  affairs  undisturbed  by  the  civil  author- 
ities. 

So  much  for  the  attitude  of  the  Church  toward  the  social 
problem  of  the  Middle  Ages.  Of  equal  importance  for  the 
future  was  the  attitude  of  the  barbarians  toward  the  heritage 
which  had  passed  into  their  hands  from  the  three  ancient  civili- 
zations. These  barbarians  brought  into  the  civilized  world 
practically  nothing  except  their  personal  vigor  and  a  certain 
spirit  of  independence.  It  is  a  mistake  to  assume  that  they 
brought  even  the  principle  of  individuality.  That  was  the  con- 
tribution of  Israel.  The  Teutons  brought  individuals,  not 
individuality.  No  such  conjuncture  of  affairs  had  ever  occurred 
before  in  the  world's  history;  none  has  occurred  since.  "The 
ancient  world  had  developed  its  own  civilization;  modern  Europe 
received  that  civilization  and  appropriated  it.  "^  Each  of  the 
preceding  societies  had  been  helped  by  older  civilizations,  but 
each  had  developed  to  a  considerable  degree  along  independent 
lines,  and  was  simply  helped  along  in  the  same  direction  by  what 
it  received  from  others.  No  elements  of  civilization  which  proved 
to  be  of  peculiar  value  had  been  developed  by  the  Teutonic 
tribes  before  they  came  in  contact  with  Rome.  At  that  time, 
they  probably  possessed  no  element  of  culture  which  had  not 
been  common  to  the  other  important  Aryan  groups  when  the 

I  Mead,  ibid. 


THE  PROBLEM  SET  FOR  MEDIEVAL  SOCIETY  83 

latter  were  at  the  same  stage.  This  statement  does  not  detract 
from  their  importance  in  the  development  of  modern  civilization; 
for  the  other  societies  had  exhausted  themselves,  and  the  continu- 
ance of  social  evolution  depended  more  upon  vigorous  raw  mate- 
rials than  upon  institutions. 

The  Teutonic  peoples  had  probably  entered  the  territory 
north  of  the  great  mountain  systems  and  bounded  by  the  Elbe 
and  the  Oder  about  the  time  the  Greeks  and  Italians  had  taken 
possession  of  their  respective  peninsulas."  But  the  character 
of  their  country  kept  them  from  making  any  considerable  advance. 
The  swamps  and  forests  of  Germany  prevented  the  tribes  from 
advancing  in  civilization,  but  they  were  also  a  protection  against 
the  Romans.  The  Germans  described  by  Caesar  were  still  largely 
nomadic,  living  in  village  communities  which  were  frequently 
moved,  and,  in  general,  had  reached  an  economic  position 
corresponding  to  upper  barbarism.*  The  Suevi  had  not  had 
settled  homes  for  fourteen  years.^  The  political  organization 
was  still  formed  on  the  basis  of  kin,  the  family  being  of  the  patri- 
archal type.  The  chief  of  the  tribe,  the  cyning,  was  chosen  from 
the  privileged  family  that  was  entitled  to  that  office,  and  was 
elected  only  in  the  sense  that  the  eldest  male  in  that  line  could 
be  set  aside  by  the  tribesmen  on  account  of  feebleness  or  other 
disqualification.  The  tribe  was  formed  by  the  union  of  a  number 
of  clans  or  gentes,  as  in  the  case  of  all  other  peoples  amongst 
whom  we  are  able  to  find  a  tribal  organization.  Since  the  patri- 
archal system  had  done  away  with  exogamy,  these  gentes  had 
lost  their  significance  as  marriage  groups.  The  elders  of  these 
smaller  units,  corresponding  to  the  sachems  of  the  North  Amer- 
ican Indians,  formed  the  tribal  council  whose  chief  function  was 
to  maintain  the  established  customs  of  the  tribe.  These  chiefs 
had  doubtless  led  in  war  and  governed  in  peace  in  the  earlier 
history  of  the  tribes ;  but  as  the  customs  of  succession  and  tenure 
of  office  became  more  settled,  it  might  frequently  happen  that 

I  Miillenhof,  Deutsche  Alterthumskunde. 
'  De  bello  Gallico,  iv,  i. 
3  Ibid.,  i,  36.  SI. 


84  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

a  wise  chief  would  be  a  failure  as  a  captain.  Under  such  cir- 
cumstances, when  mihtary  operations  became  of  pressing  impor- 
tance, the  tribesmen  had  to  select  a  man  of  known  bravery  and 
skill  to  serve  as  war-chief.  Finally,  the  war-leader  became  a 
permanent  institution  as  the  hereioch.  The  royal  hne,  although 
tending  to  degenerate,  was  too  firmly  estabUshed  to  be  set  aside; 
but  practical  necessity  led  to  the  development  of  a  special  war- 
chief.  Tacitus  distinguishes  between  the  princeps  and  the  dux^ 
intimating  that  the  latter  secured  his  position  by  the  admiration 
which  he  could  inspire  in  his  fellow- tribesmen.^  This  passage 
in  Tacitus  is  also  interesting  as  showing  how  little  military  leader- 
ship was  required.  *  Tribal  warfare  consists  in  constantly 
recurring  feuds,  rather  than  in  systematic  military  operations. 
As  among  the  North  American  Indians  any  brave  who  wanted 
to  start  an  expedition  could  gather  companions  by  sending  out 
invitations  and  giving  a  dance,  so  any  Teutonic  warrior  of  recog- 
nized valor  might  gather  a  war  party;  and,  as  among  the  former 
people  one  of  these  band-leaders  would  be  chosen  by  natural 
selection  as  the  war-chief  of  the  whole  tribe,  should  the  war  assume 
tribal  significance,  so  the  Teutonic  marauding  chief  became 
the  "host-leader"  for  his  whole  tribe,  or  even  a  confederation 
of  related  tribes,  and  finally  usurped  the  power  of  the  hereditary 
chieftain  and  overthrew  the  tribal  constitution.^ 

The  decay  of  the  tribal  constitution  was  hastened  by  the 
changes  which  took  place  in  the  economic  life  of  the  people. 
The  chief  trust  of  the  Germans  had  been  in  their  flocks  and  herds, 
yet  a  rude  system  of  agriculture  was  maintained.  The  natural 
environment  made  it  impossible  to  carry  their  agricultural  devel- 
opment very  far."*  The  population  was  sparse,  and  when  it 
increased  beyond  the  food  supply,  the  tendency  was  to  wander 
to  new  lands  rather  than  to  develop  a  more  intensive  system  of 

I  Germania,  vii. 

»  "  Duces  exemplo  potius,  quam  imperio,  si  prompti,  si  conspicui,  si  ante 
aciem  agant,  admiratione  praesunt." 

3  Cf.  Morgan,  Ancient  Society,  117,  118,  146,  147. 

4  "Agriculture  non  student." — Caesar,  op.  cit.,  vi,  21. 


THE  PROBLEM  SET  FOR  MEDLEVAL  SOCIETY  85 

agriculture.  In  so  far  as  such  semi-nomadic  habits  prevailed, 
common  land  was  much  more  important  than  private  property; 
and  accordingly  we  find  no  evidence  of  private  property  in  land 
at  the  earlier  period.  Communal  ownership  of  a  more  or  less 
permanent  character  doubtless  prevailed;  for  cultivation  almost 
invariably  involved  clearing  of  forests,  and  even  when  the  cleared 
fields  were  exhausted  by  repeated  cultivation,  they  continued 
to  have  value  as  grazing-land,  while  adjoining  stretches  of  wood- 
land could  be  cleared  for  cultivation.  Perchance  the  original 
fields  would  again  be  cultivated,  after  lying  fallow  for  a  while, 
when  the  beginnings  of  a  two-field  system  would  appear.  In 
many  cases,  however,  the  tendency  to  migrate  counterbalanced 
the  valuation  which  the  community  placed  on  its  cultivable 
lands;  in  no  cases  were  conditions  sufficiently  settled  to  permit 
private  ownership  to  emerge. 

But  by  the  time  of  Tacitus,  a  marked  change  was  taking 
place  in  Germanic  fife.  Agriculture  was  becoming  much  more 
important,  and  private  ownership  had  begun  in  some  sections.* 
This  change  had  been  caused  by  the  Roman  barriers  which  for 
a  hundred  and  fifty  years  had  been  crowding  the  tribes  back 
upon  themselves.  As  the  population  increased  beyond  the  food 
supply,  it  became  necessary  to  resort  to  more  intensive  methods 
of  agriculture.  And  when  the  nomadic  wanderings  were  checked, 
the  tribes  tended  to  become  consolidated  and  thus  to  form  nations 
which  were  finally  able  to  sweep  away  the  barriers.^  With 
the  advancing  need  of  land  for  agriculture,  the  power  of  leaders 
who  conquered  lands  became  greater.  The  congestion  on  the 
borders  caused  intertribal  struggles  for  existence.  The  heretoch^ 
who  had  formerly  been  a  temporary  functionary,  now  became 
a  permanent  chieftain.  The  whole  social  organization  took  on 
more  of  the  character  of  the  comitatus,  for  the  tribal  lands  needed 
constant  defense  or  new  lands  had  to  be  conquered.  Under  the 
pressure  of  constant  warfare,  the  old  clan  system  tended  to  dis- 
appear.    The  war-leader  displaced  the  old  chiefs  and  became 

I  Germania,  xvi,  xxvi. 

a  Arnold,  Deutsche  Urzeit,  81-84. 


86  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

a  king.  When  the  tribes  invaded  the  Empire,  these  mihtary 
chieftains  became  supreme  rulers  of  their  people.  Neither  the 
tribes  that  entered  the  Empire  nor  those  which  took  their  places 
in  the  German  countries  could  settle  down  in  peace.  Conse- 
quently the  organization  based  on  relationship  had  to  yield.* 
The  changes  in  Germanic  institutions  by  the  time  of  the  invasions 
amounted  to  a  transition  from  communal  holding  of  land  to 
private  ownership  by  leaders  at  least;  and  from  a  clan  organ- 
ization to  a  militant  organization  in  which  the  leaders  became 
virtual  kings  and  the  owners  of  most  of  the  land.  None  of  the 
normal  Germanic  institutions  remained  to  become  the  basis  of 
new  institutions  in  the  western  world.  The  war-leader  became 
the  feudal  lord,  and  could  be  a  vital  institution  only  during  the 
period  of  frequent  wars.  The  Teutons  brought  no  institutions 
which  were  to  play  an  important  part  in  the  later  social  develop- 
ment. They  were  truly  barbarians  when  they  began  to  work 
over  the  civilization  found  in  the  conquered  provinces;  but  they 
were  barbarians  who  had  come  to  admire  the  civihzation  which 
had  so  long  confronted  them. 

During  the  four  centuries  preceding  the  invasions,  the  Teutonic 
peoples  were  being  powerfully  influenced  by  this  civilization. 
They  invaded  the  Empire  only  after  having  lived  under  its  influ- 
ence for  a  long  time.  With  the  extinction  of  the  Roman  peasantry, 
the  army  had  been  largely  recruited  from  among  the  tribes  of  the 
border.  Commerce  was  brisk  between  the  Roman  merchants 
and  these  border  tribes  at  least.  Many  of  the  barbarians  had 
been  admitted  to  rank  and  ofiice  in  the  Empire.  Alaric  had  been 
in  the  service  of  Theodosius.  Theodoric  had  passed  many  of 
his  earlier  years  in  Byzantium;  and  while  his  kingdom  passed 
away  too  soon  to  have  a  direct  part  in  the  development  of  Euro- 
pean civilization,  the  aims  of  his  administration  must  have  served 
to  stimulate  other  barbarian  leaders.  Above  all,  the  Christian 
missionaries  had  early  begun  to  carry  their  religion  to  all  acces- 
sible tribes;  and  the  influence  of  the  rehgion  of  civilization  waS 
marked  even  among  those  who  did    not  accept    the  orthodox 

I  Wietersheim,  Geschichte  der  Volkerwanderung  (Dahn  ed.),  I,  35-73. 


THE  PROBLEM  SET  FOR  MEDIEVAL  SOCIETY  87 

Roman  faith.  The  West  Goths  had  been  converted  about  375, 
the  East  Goths  and  Vandals  a  little  later,  the  Burgundians  early 
in  the  fifth  century,  the  Franks,  Lombards,  and  Anglo-Saxons 
not  until  somewhat  later,  but  even  these  peoples  came  under 
the  influence  of  Christianity  soon  after  their  migrations.  But 
whether  Christian  or  not,  nearly  all  had  come  to  know  and  appre- 
ciate the  greatness  of  Roman  civilization.  The  tendency  toward 
monarchical  institutions  which  we  have  already  noted  strength- 
ened their  regard  for  Roman  political  organization,  for  the  bar- 
barian leaders  found  the  latter  well  suited  to  increase  their  power. 

Thus  when  the  final  movement  came  and  the  Teutonic  tribes  slowly 
estabUshed  themselves  through  the  provinces,  they  entered  not  as  savage 
strangers,  but  as  colonists  knowing  something  of  the  system  into  which  they 
came,  and  not  xmwilling  to  be  considered  its  members;  despising  the  degen- 
erate provincials  who  struck  no  blow  in  their  own  defense,  but  full  of  respect 
for  the  majestic  power  which  had  for  so  many  centuries  confronted  and  instruct- 
ed them.' 

The  elaborate  philosophical  system,  the  statuary  and  painting, 
the  cultivated  language  and  literature,  the  luxuries  of  the  wealthy 
Romans,  probably  impressed  the  barbarians  but  slightly,  for 
the  appreciation  of  these  things  depended  upon  intellectual  and 
aesthetic  training  such  as  few  of  them  had  enjoyed;  but  the  ad- 
mirable machinery  of  government,  the  massive  buildings,  the 
stately  religious  ceremonial,  the  well-tilled  fields,  the  busy  work- 
shops, deeply  impressed  the  invaders.  They  entered  the  provinces 
not  for  plunder  but  for  settlement;  and  the  existing  social  organ- 
ization supplied — 

what  they  most  needed  and  could  least  construct  for  themselves;  and  hence 
it  was  that  the  greatest  among  them  were  the  most  desirous  to  preserve  it. 
The  Mongol  Attila  excepted,  there  is  among  these  terrible  hosts  no  destroyer; 
the  wish  of  each  leader  is  to  maintain  the  existing  order,  to  spare  life,  to  respect 
every  work  of  skill  and  labor,  above  all  to  perpetuate  the  methods  of  Roman 
administration  and  rule  the  people  as  the  deputy  or  successor  of  their 
emperor.* 

Had  the  Teutons  been  mere  destroyers,  the  outcome  of  the 

»  Bryce,  The  Holy  Raman  Empire,  16. 
'  Ibid.,  17. 


88  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

movement  we  are  tracing  would  have  been  vastly  different.  They 
would  then  have  settled  in  a  favorable  country  for  the  develop- 
ment of  a  civilization;  but  having  destroyed  what  they  found 
there,  their  progress  would  have  been  very  slow,  and  probably 
they  would  never  have  been  able  to  attain  to  any  such  highly 
developed  social  life  as  we  find  in  the  world  today.  There  is  no 
reason  for  believing  that  these  barbarians  who  for  centuries  had 
scarcely  changed  their  social  habits  in  the  slightest  degree  would 
have  been  able  to  work  out  a  highly  developed  civilization  with- 
out the  assistance  of  antiquity.  The  migration  to  a  more  favor- 
able habitat  and  the  modification  of  their  social  habits  consequent 
on  such  a  change  might  have  set  them  on  the  way  to  a  high 
civilization,  but  it  is  improbable  that  they  could  have  been  more 
successful  than  any  one  of  the  great  societies  which  we  have 
already  considered.  No  such  complex,  mobile,  and  progressive 
society  could  have  been  produced  had  not  the  results  of  the  pre- 
vious development  been  appropriated  by  the  Teutons.  The 
latter  were  not  mere  destroyers.  They  disarranged  everything 
then  in  existence;  they  marred  and  ruined  many  things  of  ines- 
timable value;  violence  and  barbarity  ruled  for  ten  centuries; 
but  they  nevertheless  set  themselves  to  appropriate  the  essential 
elements  of  the  civilization  they  had  overthrown  and  were  ready 
to  receive  the  ideals  held  by  the  one  institution  which  had  survived 
the  fall  of  the  Empire. 

Thus  we  find  that,  on  the  one  hand,  the  Church  had  come  to 
undertake  the  reconstruction  of  society,  and,  on  the  other,  the 
barbarians  were  ready  to  receive  the  ideals  which  would  enable 
them  to  constitute  the  reconstructed  society.  Before  tracing 
farther  the  effects  of  this  attitude  of  the  barbarians,  the  relation 
of  their  migration  to  the  increased  power  of  the  Church  must  be 
noted.  This  has  been  partially  explained  above,  but  there  are 
other  reasons  to  be  given  for  the  tremendous  power  of  the  Church 
over  the  barbarian  mind.  The  Church  had  this  power  both 
because  it  was  the  representative  of  the  old  civilization  for  which 
the  new  peoples  had  so  much  respect,  and  because  conditions 
were  favorable  for  the  development  by  the  Church  of  certain 


THE  PROBLEM  SET  FOR  MEDLEVAL  SOCIETY  89 

magical  powers  which  would  enable  it  to  exercise  almost  absolute 
authority  in  directing  the  ethical  life  of  Europe. 

The  disorganization  of  social  institutions  and  the  loss  of  control 
of  the  natural  environment  created  a  demand  for  magic. ^  The 
Teutons  comprehended  little  of  natural  laws.  Like  all  primitive 
peoples,  they  attributed  all  natural  phenomena  which  they  could 
not  control  to  supernatural  power.  In  this  respect  they  did  not 
change  their  views  when  they  entered  the  Empire.  Indeed, 
their  beliefs  were  intensified  by  the  change  of  environment  that 
brought  to  their  attention  new  phenomena  of  nature.  Even  the 
ancients  had  not  quite  reached  the  scientific  point  of  view.  Super- 
natural power  was  still  called  in  to  explain  many  of  the  phenomena 
that  confronted  them.  But  many  of  the  forces  of  nature  had 
been  reduced  to  order.  When  they  could  be  controlled,  they 
were  no  longer  supernatural.  The  decadent  society  of  the  fifth 
and  sixth  centuries  had  lost  much  of  its  scientific  knowledge, 
and  was  coming  to  have  more  fear  of  the  supernatural.  When, 
therefore,  the  barbarians  came  in  with  all  the  new  superstitions 
which  contact  with  a  new  environment  aroused,  society  was  well 
prepared  to  resort  to  magical  means  to  control  the  divine  powers 
that  seemed  to  bring  more  evil  than  good  to  man. 

Further,  the  entire  change  in  social  life  on  the  part  of  the 
Teutons  and  the  breakdown  of  the  social  organization  of  the 
Romans  were  a  still  stronger  reason  for  resort  to  magic.  Social 
dislocations  have  always  tended  to  make  men  resort  to  magical 
methods  to  bridge  the  gap  between  the  old  social  habits  and  the 
new  situation.  At  this  time  both  Romans  and  Teutons  had 
suffered  a  severe  social  dislocation.  The  established  social 
habits  could  no  longer  function.  The  Roman  saw  the  Empire 
which  had  seemed  eternal  losing  its  power.  The  German  had 
before  him  an  ideal  of  social  life  which  his  old  methods  could 
not  enable  him  to  realize.  The  invasion  of  North  America 
naturally  led  to  the  rise  of  the  medicine-man  among  the  natives; 
in  Europe  both  conquered  and  conquerors  were  confronted  by 

»  I  use  this  term  for  want  of  a  better  one.  It  is  not  intended  to  imply  wilful 
deception  on  the  part  of  the  Church. 


90  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

a  social  situation  for  which  past  experience  had  not  prepared 
them,  and  both  demanded  some  supernatural  assistance  in  the 
transition  from  the  old  order  of  things  to  the  new. 

Now,  the  same  social  disorders  which  drove  away  from  the 
world  those  men  whose  temperament  enabled  them  to  realize 
in  emotional  terms  the  new  social  order,  gave  them  power  to  be- 
come mediators  in  the  world.  Since  the  barbarians  had  largely 
come  under  the  influence  of  Christianity,  the  priests  naturally 
became  the  mediators  between  man  and  the  supernatural  powers 
which  alone  seemed  able  to  control  the  social  order.  With  this 
belief  once  estabUshed  it  would  naturally  grow  in  intensity.  The 
recognition  of  the  powers  of  the  saint  led  many  of  the  most  am- 
bitious spirits  of  the  age  to  enter  holy  orders.  Under  the  Em- 
pire the  clergy  had  been  subordinate  to  the  government,  and  the 
Theodosian  code  still  shows  the  supremacy  of  the  civil  authority; 
but  by  the  middle  of  the  fifth  century  the  priesthood  had  come 
to  have  a  power  over  the  popular  mind  that  was  almost  autocratic. 
Again,  during  the  period  of  order  under  Charlemagne,  the  su- 
premacy of  the  civil  power  was  marked ;  but  during  the  period  of 
anarchy  following,  the  Church  became  even  more  powerful  be- 
cause more  strongly  established  by  the  protection  it  had  received. 
The  culmination  of  the  disorders  consequent  on  the  fall  of  Rome 
was  the  founding  of  Monte  Casino  (529),  though  it  was  not  until 
somewhat  later  that  the  Benedictine  order  arose  to  great  power. 
The  culmination  of  the  disorders  of  the  Carolingian  period  was 
the  founding  of  Cluny  (910),  though  it  was  not  until  1073  that 
the  representative  of  this  monastery,  Hildebrand,  gained  com- 
plete control  of  the  Church.^  Attention  will  be  directed  later 
to  the  importance  of  magical  powers  in  the  eleventh  century,  when 
they  received  their  greatest  expansion.  The  same  causes,  how- 
ever, led  to  the  supremacy  of  the  Church  at  the  very  beginning 
of  the  invasions.  The  demand  for  a  miraculous  bridge  be- 
tween the  chaos  of  existing  society  and  the  ideal  society  before 
both  Roman  and  Teuton  led  to  a  supply  of  magic  by  the  Church. 

I  Hildebrand   may  be   considered  the  supreme  power  from  1049,  when  he 
became  the  minister  of  Leo. 


THE  PROBLEM  SET  FOR  MEDLEVAL  SOCIETY  91 

The  civil  power  had  become  practically  extinct,  and  the  imagina- 
tion of  the  world  was  enslaved  by  superstition;  therefore  the 
Church  in  serving  as  a  mediator  secured  also  a  power  over  men 
that  enabled  it  to  mold  them  largely  to  its  liking.  The  fear  of 
miracles  exempted  one  class  from  violence  in  the  midst  of  univer- 
sal lawlessness;  and  more  than  once  whole  communities  were 
protected  from  ruin  by  the  spiritual  power.  Even  Attila  the  Hun 
turned  back  in  terror  from  Aquileia  when  confronted  by  the 
stately  presence  of  Leo,  although  the  Roman  soldiers  had  been 
driven  from  Ravenna.*  This  supernatural  power  of  the  Church 
made  it  more  efl5cient  than  it  would  otherwise  have  been  in  carry- 
ing over  the  ancient  civilization  to  the  newly  forming  society. 

THE  ETHICAL  PROBLEM  OF  THE  MIDDLE  AGES 

As  we  have  seen,  the  barbarians  were  prepared  by  long  con- 
tact with  the  Empire  to  accept  the  essential  elements  of  the  old 
civilization  of  which  the  Church  was  the  best  representative. 
This  presentation  of  ideals  of  social  order,  on  the  one  side,  and 
this  acceptance  of  the  ideals,  on  the  other,  constituted  the  pecu- 
liar problem  of  the  Middle  Ages.  Europe  started  off  with  a  state- 
ment of  the  problem  of  social  life  and  had  to  work  up  to  it.  The 
ancient  world  had  developed  its  own  civilization.  The  Teutonic 
peoples  started  off  with  the  results  of  previous  social  develop- 
ment as  ideals  to  be  realized.'  For  the  first  time  in  the  develop- 
ment of  human  society  the  ideas  which  underlay  the  social  struc- 
ture were  abstracted.  So  long  as  the  ancient  societies  had  lived 
according  to  these  principles,  they  had  been  unconscious  of  them. 
When  their  social  life  was  decaying,  when  history  was  behind 
them,  the  ancients  began  to  reflect  instead  of  continuing  to  act.  The 
conception  of  free  intelligence  could  come  to  expression  only  after 
Athens  had  lost  her  power;  that  of  the  ordered  state  only  after 
Rome  had  lost  her  vitality;  and  that  of  the  identity  of  human  in- 
terests within  the  society  could  culminate  in  the  teaching  of  Jesus 

I  Cf.  Hodgkin,  Italy  and  Her  Invaders,  II,  122,  161,  514. 
"  On  this  point  I  am  especially  indebted  to  Professor  Mead  for  many  fruitful 
suggestions. 


92  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

only  when  the  Jewish  community  was  passing  away.  When  ab- 
stracted, these  ideas  became  ideals,  and  were  carried  over  to  the 
Teutons  chiefly  in  the  religion  which  survived  the  fall  of  the  Em- 
pire. A  part  of  the  intellectual  content  of  ancient  civilization 
was  carried  over  in  the  doctrine  of  the  Church,  something  of  the 
administrative  framework  in  the  Christian  hierarchy,  and  the 
general  ethical  conceptions  of  Jesus  became  the  essential  life  of 
Christianity.  All  these  were  blended  in  a  general  ideal  to  which 
may  be  applied  the  somewhat  elastic  term  "Holy  Roman  Em- 
pire." Europe  received  this  ideal — the  conception  of  a  state  in 
which  the  individual  and  the  community  were  to  be  brought  into 
harmony — chiefly  through  the  agency  of  the  Church,  and  set  be- 
fore itself  the  problem  of  realizing  it.  In  the  East  this  ideal  was 
to  be  realized  only  in  the  future  life;  but  in  the  West  the  new 
element  that  had  come  into  society  undertook  at  once  the  solution 
of  the  problem.  This  quest  was  only  to  a  slight  degree  conscious, 
for  theology  did  not  recognize  the  possibility  of  social  reconstruc- 
tion in  this  life,  but  it  was  none  the  less  real.  Europe  did  not 
face  the  necessity  of  attaining  new  ideas.  The  ideas  were  already 
given.  The  attempt  was  being  made  to  apply  them.  A  state- 
ment of  civilization  was  given,  and  Europe  had  to  catch  up  with 
it.  Antiquity  had  achieved  civilization;  modern  society  had 
civilization  forced  upon  it. 

The  problem  was  to  bring  the  various  particular  objects  and 
activities  into  the  scheme  of  universals  that  had  come  down  from 
the  past — to  apply  the  universal,  "Christendom,"  to  the  various 
discordant  tribes  and  nations,  or  rather  the  infinite  number  of 
local  groups,  whose  economic  and  institutional  life  kept  them  from 
uniting  in  a  society  which  would  realize  the  ideal.  All  thought 
and  action  was  to  be  tested  by  these  ideals  which  had  come  down 
from  the  past.  Therefore,  the  conception  of  authority,  which 
was  altogether  absent  in  Greek  thought,  became  of  very  great 
importance.  Since  it  was  not  a  matter  of  attaining  new  ideas, 
but  of  catching  up  with  ideas  already  given,  the  important  thing 
was  to  hold  Europe  to  the  line  of  thought  which  was  given.  The 
unity  of  European  society  was  foimd  in  these  common  ideals. 


THE  PROBLEM  SET  FOR  MEDLEVAL  SOCIETY  93 

Wars  were  constant,  but  they  were  never  a  unifying  force,  as 
they  had  been  when  Rome  gathered  together  a  world-state.  Eco- 
nomic activities  were  quite  similar  in  all  parts  of  Europe,  but  in 
the  absence  of  exchange  there  could  be  no  unified  economic  life. 
It  was  only  in  these  ideals  that  a  foundation  existed  for  the  develop- 
ment of  an  organic  society. 

The  Church  naturally  became  the  teacher  and  authority,  for  the 
Church  was  the  only  institution  which  was  identified  with  the  past, 
and  these  ruling  ideals  were  characterized  by  certain  important 
religious  aspects.  Until  the  general  scheme  of  social  life  had 
been  filled  in,  advance  was  impossible.  Until  the  given  line  of 
thought  had  been  realized  in  life,  this  authority  could  not  be  over- 
thrown. When  advance  no  longer  consisted  in  realizing  ideals 
which  had  been  furnished  by  a  society  that  had  passed  away,  a 
reaction  against  authority  was  natural  and  necessary.  Further 
progress  did  not  depend  upon  obedience  to  it.  Not  simply  be- 
cause of  the  magical  powers  ascribed  to  the  Church,  but  because 
the  barbarians  accepted  the  old  system  as  an  ideal  to  be  realized 
before  any  further  progress  could  be  hoped  for,  did  Europe  bow 
before  a  power  not  of  its  own  creation. 

The  ethical  development  of  Europe,  therefore,  consisted  in 
attempting  to  realize  the  ideals  for  which  the  Church  stood — in 
general,  a  unified  Christendom  in  which  the  individual  would 
function,  not  for  a  small  community,  but  for  the  whole  organism, 
and  in  which  the  values  of  the  whole  would  be  poured  into  every 
individual.  It  can  not  be  said  that  this  ideal  has  yet  been  realized. 
There  is  still  too  much  friction  in  society  for  us  to  believe  so.  And 
yet,  much  of  this  friction,  serious  though  it  may  be,  is  of  a  surface 
sort,  and  is  not  inconsistent  with  a  general  identity  of  interests  within 
a  world-embracing  society.  The  welfare  of  each  is  now  actually 
dependent  upon  the  proper  functioning  of  the  whole.  The  universals 
which  came  down  from  the  past  are  now  largely  exhausted,  and 
further  social  evolution  must  consist  in  developing  ideals  in  the 
very  social  process  which  is  in  turn  to  realize  them  and  necessitate 
still  other  ideals.  This  is  the  capital  difference  between  modern 
society  and  society  from  Augustine  to  Descartes  and  Hobbes. 


94  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

The  peculiarity  of  the  ethical  ends  of  Europe  necessarily 
made  the  ethical  problem  peculiar.  This  peculiarity  consisted 
in  the  manner  in  which  the  means  for  the  realization  of  the  ends 
had  to  be  worked  out.  The  ends  were  given.  So  far  the  ethical 
problem  was  simple.  But  these  ends  had  to  be  used  to  direct 
the  means  of  their  own  realization.  All  that  the  Church  could 
do  as  a  teaching  institution  was  to  present  the  ideals.  Beyond 
this  it  was  as  powerless  as  the  old  Empire  which  then  had  no 
significance  save  as  a  bare  ideal.  But  the  Church  was  a  living 
institution,  and  was  therefore  a  part  of  the  society  that  was  at- 
tempting to  realize  the  ideals  which  the  same  Church,  as  an 
external  power,  was  holding  before  that  society.  It  therefore  not 
only  presented  the  ends  of  social  action,  but  attempted  to  apply 
these  ends  in  the  organization  of  means.  The  most  important 
means  of  reaching  the  ideal  was  magic.  But  the  Church  played 
a  most  important  part  in  organizing  real  means,  that  is,  in  direct- 
ing the  economic  development.  The  traditions  of  the  Church 
and  the  natural  selection  made  possible  by  its  purely  democratic 
character  enabled  it  to  furnish  such  administrative  assistance  as 
served  to  prevent  total  social  dissolution,  and,  especially  in  the 
Frankish  kingdom,  to  bring  about  the  blending  of  the  barbarian 
and  provincial  elements  of  the  population.  And  the  same  demo- 
cratic features  brought  to  the  front  the  enlightened  intelligence 
which  could  make  the  domains  of  the  monasteries  and  cathedrals 
the  highest  examples  of  economic  development  in  mediaeval 
Europe. 

The  ends  being  given,  the  problem  was  to  organize  the  means 
by  which  they  were  to  be  realized.  Our  previous  investigation  has 
had  to  do  with  the  development  of  the  ends  which  were  to  be  set 
before  Europe.  After  this  chapter  the  investigation  will  have  to 
do  with  the  development  of  the  means  by  which  Europe  was  to 
realize  the  ends.  The  ethical  side  of  the  problem  is  found  in  the 
reaction  of  the  given  ideals  upon  the  means  which  were  being  or- 
ganized. The  economic  side  is  found  in  the  development  of  the 
means  themselves — usually  economic  in  the  narrower  sense  of 
the  term.    The  political  side  of  the  problem  is  found  in  the  gov- 


THE  PROBLEM  SET  FOR  MEDLEVAL  SOCIETY  95 

ernmental  arrangements  as  they  existed  at  various  periods.  Un- 
questionably the  political  framework  has  reacted  powerfully 
upon  the  other  factors  at  various  times;  but  on  the  whole  it  has 
usually  been  merely  a  partial  expression  of  the  social  life  as  deter- 
mined by  the  ethical  and  economic  development.  This  was  un- 
doubtedly true  during  the  greater  part  of  the  Middle  Ages,  when 
the  pohtical  organization  was  almost  nil.  This  aspect  of  the  social 
life  will  therefore  require  but  incidental  attention,  either  as  the  po- 
litical power  reacts  on  the  general  social  life,  or  as  the  political 
structure  represents  the  attainment  up  to  a  given  date,  and  so 
both  a  help  and  a  hindrance  to  further  advance. 

Since  the  main  problem  of  Europe  was  the  organization  of 
means,  it  may  be  asked:  Did  the  social  ideals  as  held  by  the 
Church  actually  have  anything  to  do  with  the  social  evolution? 
Would  not  the  outcome  have  been  the  same  without  them  ?  This 
question  has  been  discussed  in  our  consideration  of  the  possibilities 
of  the  Teutons  left  to  themselves.  The  ideals  from  the  past  were 
inextricably  bound  up  with  the  whole  social  development.  The 
struggles  of  popes  and  emperors  for  supremacy  meant  more  than 
mere  efforts  to  gratify  selfish  ambition;  they  were  an  expression 
of  the  dominance  of  the  ideal  of  a  unified  Christendom.  Had 
not  Europe  been  pursuing  this  ideal,  neither  popes  nor  emperors 
could  have  gained  the  following  they  had.  Even  although  the 
immediate  efforts  to  organize  Christendom  were  inevitably  doomed 
to  failure,  and  although  when  the  organization  came  it  was  vastly 
different  from  anything  popes  and  emperors  had  dreamed,  yet 
the  efforts  which  kept  Europe  alive  to  its  purpose  had  much  to  do 
with  the  final  outcome. 

An  eminent  historian  has  contrasted  the  reigns  of  Charlemagne 
and  Otho,  very  much  to  the  discredit  of  the  former.  He  has  cor- 
rectly shown  that  Charlemagne's  efforts  to  establish  a  universal 
empire  were  futile,  and,  indeed,  were  directly  in  opposition  to 
the  necessary  course  of  events.  The  strong  arm  of  the  great  em- 
peror alone  could  hold  the  diverse  interests  together,  and  the  wel- 
fare of  all  sections  demanded  that  each  should  be  permitted  to 
work  out  its  special  problems  undisturbed.     Charlemagne  at- 


96  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

tempted  to  join  together  what  the  nature  of  things  was  disintegrat- 
ing;^ and  can  not  be  regarded,  from  this  point  of  view,  as  so  truly 
advancing  the  real  interests  of  society  as  Otho  did  when  he  organ- 
ized the  Empire  upon  a  feudal  basis.  Under  the  latter  regime 
each  local  community  was  allowed  to  pursue  the  course  which 
its  situation  seemed  to  demand.  Europe  was  not  yet  ready  for 
unification,  and  attempts  to  realize  that  dream  seemed  to  hinder 
rather  than  help  true  progress.*  And  yet  the  success  of  Charle- 
magne in  welding  the  nations  together  in  one  whole,  artificial  and 
temporary  though  it  was,  made  it  impossible  for  Europe  ever 
again  to  forget  its  destiny.  Charles  was  as  truly  an  expression 
of  the  spirit  of  Europe  as  Otho  was.  By  a  fortunate  conjuncture 
of  affairs  he  was  enabled  to  use  his  great  genius  in  setting  the 
standard  for  six  centuries.  The  ideal  was  not  realized  as  Charles 
thought,  but  the  more  definite  statement  of  the  problem  assisted 
men  in  its  solution,  and  even  made  possible  the  Ottonian  empire. 
The  neighboring  Teutonic  tribes  were  brought  within  Christen- 
dom because  it  was  felt  that  they  were  less  heathen  than  the  Huns 
and  Saracens  who  were  threatening  the  whole  society.  The  at- 
tacks of  these  latter  peoples  brought  Europe  to  a  more  conscious 
recognition  of  the  true  ends  of  Christian  society.  Charlemagne's 
empire  was  an  expression  of  this  consciousness  of  a  controlling 
ideal — the  Holy  Roman  Empire,  the  unified  Christendom. 

The  Holy  Roman  Empire  existed  as  a  reality  only  during  the 
lifetime  of  its  great  founder.  "That  passionate  longing  of  the 
better  minds  for  a  formal  unity  of  government,  which  had  its  his- 
torical basis  in  the  memories  of  the  old  Roman  Empire,  and  its 

I  Sismondi,  Histoire  des  republiques  italiennes  du  moyen  dge,  I,  34-37. 

»  "Othon  ne  fut  pas  moins  grand  que  Charlemagne;  et  son  rfegne  eut  une 
influence  plus  salutaire  sur  le  sort  des  peuples  qui  lui  6taient  soumis.  Charles  eut 
1 'ambition  des  conqu^rants;  et,  pour  flever  son  empire,  il  detruisit  I'esprit  national, 
et  avec  lui  la  vigueur  des  peuples  qu'il  avait  vaincus:  Othon  ne  remporta  pas  de 
moindres  victoires  que  lui;  mais  ce  fut  sur  les  enemis  de  la  civilisation,  sur  des 
agresseurs  qui  d^vastaient  I'empire  par  leur  irruptions.  Othon  ne  chercha  pas 
h  ^tendre  les  limites  de  cet  empire;  il  n'ambitionna  pas  d'autres  pouvoirs  que 
ceux  qui  lui  ^talent  n&;essaires  pour  prot6ger  ses  sujets,  et,  aprfes  avoir  rendu  la 
paix  k  ses  provinces,  il  mit  les  peuples  sur  la  voie  de  se  passer  un  jour  d  'une  auto- 
rit^  semblable  k  la  sienne." — Sismondi,  op.  cit.,  I,  82. 


THE  PROBLEM  SET  FOR  MEDLEVAL  SOCIETY  97 

most  constant  expression  in  the  devotion  to  a  visible  and  catholic 
Church,"^  was  still  not  strong  enough  to  overcome  the  tendency 
toward  separation  caused  by  the  ungovemed  impulses  and  bar- 
barous ignorance  of  the  masses  of  men — men  who  were  feehng 
after  a  better  way,  yet  had  neither  the  resolution  nor  the  control 
of  their  natural  environment  that  were  necessary  for  the  perpetuity 
of  the  empire.  Charles  failed  in  his  attempt  to  run  Teutonic 
life  into  Roman  forms.  The  Church  itself  was  not  disposed  to 
surrender  its  powers,  but  the  Church  could  maintain  its  position 
because  of  the  discordance  of  the  component  part  of  society. 

The  nations  were  not  ripe  for  settled  life  or  extensive  schemes  of  polity; 
the  differences  of  race,  language,  manners,  over  vast  and  thinly  peopled 
lands  baffled  every  attempt  to  maintain  their  connection:  and  when  once 
the  spell  of  the  great  mind  was  withdrawn,  the  mutually  repellent  forces  began 
to  work,  and  the  mass  dissolved  into  that  chaos  out  of  which  it  had  been 
formed.  Nevetheless,  the  parts  separated  not  as  they  met,  but  having  all 
of  them  undergone  influences  which  continued  to  act  when  poUtical  con- 
nection had  ceased.  For  the  work  of  Charles — a  genius  pre-eminently  cre- 
ative— was  not  lost  in  the  anarchy  that  followed:  rather  are  we  to  regard 
his  reign  as  the  beginning  of  a  new  era,  or  as  laying  the  foundations  whereon 
men  continued  for  many  generations  to  build.* 

The  real  work  of  construction,  however,  had  to  do  with  the 
unifying  of  the  activities  of  men  in  this  broken  society.  The  life 
of  society  was  particular,  not  general ;  and  therefore  the  universal 
statement,  however  exalted,  could  never  realize  itself.  To  men 
living  at  the  time,  the  universals  which  had  been  transmitted  by 
antiquity  seemed  to  be  the  important  things.  In  a  certain  sense 
they  were.  But  the  work  of  men  had  to  do  with  the  particular 
facts  of  life  until  the  latter  could  be  brought  into  harmony  with 
the  universals.  Yet  in  thought  the  universals  that  had  been  re- 
ceived from  the  past  were  separated  from  the  particulars  of  life, 
just  as  there  was  a  separation  between  the  ideal  social  order  and 
the  individual. 

In  Greek  thought  the  generalization  had  been  reached  by  the 
examination  of  the  particular.     The  particular  might  then  be 

I  Bryce,  op.  cit.,  50,  51. 
a  Ibid.,  71. 


98  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

neglected  as  interfering  with  the  consideration  of  the  universal; 
but  the  universal  was  never  reached  in  any  other  way.  In  mediae- 
val thought  the  generalization  was  received  from  the  past  and  held 
irrespective  of  the  particular.  It  had  not  been  derived  from  a 
study  of  the  particular.  It  could  not  be  derived  from  the  exam- 
ination of  particular  facts  then  existing.  Mediaeval  ideas  were 
given,  whereas  Greek  thought  had  achieved  ideas.  Men  could 
not  wholly  neglect  the  actual  facts  of  experience,  except  in  the  case 
of  a  few  ascetics;  but  the  ideals  which  had  been  received  as  a 
heritage  were  so  unmistakably  important  that  in  some  way  or 
other  the  particular  facts  of  life  had  to  be  controlled  with  refer- 
ence to  them.  There  was  thus  a  tension  between  the  ideal  and 
society  such  as  was  not  found  in  ancient  times.  The  prob- 
lem was  not,  as  in  Greek  thought,  to  develop  a  system  of 
generalizations  from  a  study  of  the  environment  natural  and 
social,  but  to  bring  various  particulars  into  a  hierarchical  scheme 
of  universals.  The  Aristotelian  logic  was  reached  by  a  study  of 
particulars.  The  mediaeval  logic  was  the  systematization  of 
Aristotle's  logic;  and  into  the  hierarchical  system,  at  the  head 
of  which  stood  absolute  being,  all  particulars  were  to  be  brought- 
The  stimulus  to  activity  was  not  found  in  the  particular  circum- 
stances, but  in  the  whole  system  that  was  given.  This  attitude 
was  never  changed  until  Europe  had  finally  exhausted  the  sys- 
tem of  universals  and  was  obliged  to  frame  new  ideals  to  guide 
social  action. 

So  it  came  to  pass  that  men  regarded  the  universal  as  the 
reality  existing  apart  from  the  particular.  The  Church  was  a 
true  universal  and  had  an  existence  apart  from  the  individuals 
who  composed  it.  Under  the  influence  of  Gregory,  the  Church 
became  the  expression  of  the  Deity  and  stood  between  man  and 
God.  The  long,  uninteresting  controversy  about  realism  was  not 
a  mere  abstract  speculation.  It  was  the  reflection  of  important 
social  facts.  Prolix  and  artificial  though  the  investigations  were, 
they  are  not  to  be  dismissed  as  meaningless.  Ideas  were  the  most 
real  things  in  the  world.  The  universal  Church  and  the  universal 
Empire  were  essential  to  the  development  of  society.    To  take 


THE  PROBLEM  SET  FOR  MEDLEVAL  SOCIETY  99 

away  these  universals  would  be  to  take  away  the  only  bonds 
which  held  Christendom  together.  The  universal  could  not  be 
seen  in  the  particular  and  the  particular  neglected,  as  with  Plato; 
the  known  objects  were  wholly  opposed  to  the  universal,  and  the 
reconciliation  had  to  be  brought  about  by  bringing  the  particular 
into  harmony  with  the  universal. 

The  reconciliation  of  the  particular  with  the  universal  was 
the  peculiar  task  of  the  Middle  Ages.  In  some  respects,  as  al- 
ready explained,  the  attempt  was  made  to  bring  this  about  by 
magic;  in  other  and  more  important  respects,  the  discordant 
particulars  were  actually  grappled  with  and  worked  over.  The 
philosophical  statement  which  corresponds  to  this  attitude  of 
Europe  was  most  definitely  made  by  Anselm.  With  him  the 
reality  was  always  the  good,  the  ordered,  in  the  midst  of  the 
disorder  of  the  world  which  was  to  pass  away.  The  more  abso- 
lute God  could  be  made,  the  more  real  he  would  be.  The 
doctrine  of  the  atonement,  which  was  stated  by  Anselm,  is  a  purely 
universal  statement  wholly  abstracted  from  the  realities  of  life. 
The  holy  life  could  be  attained  only  by  penance ;  and  this  penance 
was  different  from  that  of  the  eastern  ascetic  who  sought  to  get 
rid  of  the  particular  in  contemplation  of  the  universal:  it  was 
a  positive  subjection  of  the  individual  to  suffering  for  his  sin,  in 
order  to  make  him  correspond  with  the  ideal.  Magic  was  but 
an  effort  to  realize  universals  that  were  vaguely  understood  and 
which  the  means  at  hand  seemed  incapable  of  realizing.  The 
sacrificial  death  of  Jesus  was  the  most  efficacious  of  these  magi- 
cal means  for  bridging  the  chasm  between  sinful,  helpless  man 
and  the  absolute  God;  and  therefore,  the  repetition  of  the  sacri- 
fice in  the  daily  mass  was  the  most  important  of  all  religious  acts. 
Atonement  became  the  central  feature  of  reality.  There  was 
no  desire  for  a  holy  life  on  the  part  of  the  individual;  he  desired  only 
the  forgiveness  of  sins.  Thus,  in  the  religious  life  the  particular 
could  be  brought  into  harmony  with  the  absolute,  not  by  actual 
modification  of  the  particular,  but  by  this  magical  means. 

This  philosophical  statement  of  the  broken  social  relations 
was  made  by  Anselm  (died  1109)  at  the  very  culmination  of  the 


lOO  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

Dark  Ages  when  the  reconstruction  of  society  was  actually  be- 
ginning. It  was  then  that  the  movement  would  naturally  come 
to  consciousness;  for  when  the  universals  were  being  applied  at 
different  points  in  the  civilization  of  Europe  their  importance  would 
be  appreciated  even  more  than  during  the  darkest  period.  It 
was  also  at  this  time  that  Hildebrand  was  bringing  the  Church 
to  its  highest  position. 

Naturally  also,  at  this  period,  when  the  reconstruction  had 
already  begun,  when  the  universals  were  being  realized  at  particular 
points  in  detail,  some  men  would  begin  to  see  the  importance 
of  the  particular  facts  of  life,  not  because  the  universal  was 
realized,  but  because  the  particular  was  being  used.  The  par- 
ticular was  there,  and  to  some  it  seemed  that  the  universal  was 
not  present.  This  growing  recognition  of  the  particular  was 
represented  by  nominalism.  This  was  not  a  mere  common-sense 
reaction  against  realism,  but  was  the  statement  of  another  aspect 
of  the  very  condition  which  led  to  the  opposing  conception.  Like 
realism,  nominalism  accepted  the  given  ideals.  No  attempt 
was  made  to  draw  generalizations  from  the  actual  facts  of  life. 
The  particular  was  recognized  as  important  simply  because  it 
was  being  used  in  realizing  the  universal.  The  particular  was 
being  taken  into  account  in  the  reconstruction  of  society,  yet  no 
universal  could  be  given  for  these  known  particulars.  So  the 
universal  became,  first,  a  name,  later,  a  state  of  consciousness  of 
the  individual.  As  Anselm  had  laid  the  emphasis  on  the  uni- 
versal which  was  to  be  applied,  so  Roscellinus  recognized  the 
importance  of  the  particulars  which  were  to  be  worked  over.  As 
Anselm  was  the  Charlemagne  of  theology  and  philosophy,  so 
Roscellinus  was  the  Otho. 

Since  this  nominalistic  movement  in  thought  was  likely  to 
draw  attention  away  from  the  ideals  of  Christendom  and  cause 
disintegration  by  fixing  the  interest  on  details  which  were  so 
faulty,  Roscellinus  was  convicted  of  heresy  (1092)  and  nominal- 
ism was  suppressed  until  toward  the  close  of  the  Middle  Ages. 
The  realistic  movement  culminated  in  Thomas  Aquinas  (1225-74), 
when  the  actual  reconstruction  had  proceeded  so  far  that  those 


THE  PROBLEM  SET  FOR  MEDLEVAL  SOCIETY         loi 

who  stood  for  the  established  order  of  things  in  the  Church  sought 
to  check  it  by  giving  the  old  ruhng  theory  a  new  statement.  The 
nominalistic  movement  again  became  prominent,  after  the  prob- 
lems had  been  practically  solved,  as  a  recognition  of  the  universal 
as  a  psychical  state.  This  movement  culminated  in  William  of 
Occam  (died  1374).  Of  the  other  philosophical  statement,  con- 
ceptualism,  nothing  need  be  said  here.  It  was  chiefly  a  mediat- 
ing movement,  seeking  to  recognize  both  the  universal  and  the 
particular,  but  laying  the  emphasis  on  the  subjective  rather  than 
the  objective  side.  This  movement  was  hkewise  condemned 
when  Abelard  was  convicted  of  heresy  (1122).  It  is  important 
to  note  that  in  all  these  controversies  the  essential  importance  of 
the  ideals  held  by  the  Church  was  not  questioned.  Some  men 
simply  tended  to  lay  the  emphasis  on  the  materials  which  were 
to  be  molded  in  these  forms.  The  main  emphasis  naturally  re- 
mained on  the  universals  which  were  to  control  all  particular 
activities;  and,  on  the  whole,  we  must  admit  that  the  Church 
was  justified  in  resolutely  stamping  out  any  movement  which 
would  tend  to  cause  disintegration  by  turning  attention  from  the 
only  things  that  could  really  be  counted  on.  In  some  important 
respects  the  universals  were  the  most  real  things  in  the  world. 
Only  by  emphasizing  them  could  the  ethical  development  be 
carried  forward. 

In  so  far  as  insistence  upon  the  line  of  social  activity  was  con- 
cerned, the  Church  was  evidently  right.  In  attempting  to  solve 
the  problem  of  the  conflict  between  the  particular  facts  of  the 
broken  social  life  and  the  ideal  social  order  by  magical  rites,  the 
Church  was  manifestly  engaged  in  a  fruitless  endeavor.  And 
yet  this  (to  us)  foolish  attitude  may  have  been  necessary  in  order 
to  hold  the  barbarian  world  to  its  mission;  for  the  control  of  the 
imagination  thus  secured  certainly  had  much  to  do  with  the  di- 
rection of  the  social  activities.  However,  there  was  one  sphere 
within  which  no  magic  could  avail.  With  reference  to  general 
theories  and  religious  satisfactions,  the  chasm  between  the  par- 
ticular and  the  universal  could  be  bridged  by  the  agency  of  the 
Church ;  but  with  reference  to  the  actual  social  life  itself,  it  could 


I02  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

be  bridged  only  by  the  particular  activities  of  the  social  life  as 
guided  by  the  accepted  ideals.  No  magic  could  span  the  gulf  be- 
tween the  actual  poverty  and  disintegration  and  the  ideal  of  a 
united  Christendom.  And  yet  the  reahzation  of  the  ideal  de- 
pended upon  the  development  of  an  economic  community  which 
would  embrace  all  Christendom,  in  which  through  the  division 
of  labor  and  the  free  exchange  of  products  each  individual  would 
function  for  the  whole  and  be  benefited  by  the  activities  of  the 
whole.  It  was  this  hard  fact  which  prevented  the  formation  of  a 
pure  theocracy.  The  Church  might  try  to  get  men  to  live  for  the 
better  social  order  of  the  New  Jerusalem,  but  since  the  western 
peoples  were  too  vigorous  to  be  wilhng  to  flee  from  this  world 
and  find  their  satisfaction  in  the  contemplation  of  the  ideal  future 
world,  they  attempted,  and  the  Church  unconsciously  assisted, 
the  reconstruction  of  the  existing  social  order.  So  long  as  men 
aimed  at  this  economic  development,  no  manipulation  of  the  im- 
agination could  completely  control  them.  Therefore  a  pure 
theocracy  could  not  be  established,  and  the  miraculous  work  of 
the  Church  could  only  partially  satisfy  the  needs  of  the  age.  But 
it  was  only  as  the  wider  economic  community  developed,  so  that 
there  was  a  real  division  of  function  along  with  the  working  for  a 
common  result,  that  the  magical  and  emotional  mediation  between 
the  individual  and  the  ideal  community  could  be  done  away  and 
the  identity  of  interests  of  the  individual  and  of  the  community  be 
made  one  of  fact.  The  ethical  realization  depended  on  the  indus- 
trial. The  ends  could  be  stated  only  in  emotional  terms  until 
the  means  had  been  organized.  The  ethical  evolution  was  com- 
pletely bound  up  in  the  economic. 

As  with  the  larger  social  ideals,  so  with  the  minor  ends  of  activ- 
ity in  the  smaller  political  divisions,  on  the  manor,  in  the  atelier. 
They  were  given;  and  the  individual  in  his  activity  sought  to 
realize  them.  In  organizing  the  administrative  machinery  of 
their  new  countries  the  barbarians  had  no  higher  ideal  than  the 
system  which  had  been  in  operation.  Not  only  did  they  seek  to 
perpetuate  the  Empire;  in  the  immediate  matters  of  administra- 
tion they  sought  the  advice  and  help  of  the  Christian  bishops  and 


THE  PROBLEM  SET  FOR  MEDLEVAL  SOCIETY         103 

Roman  officials,  desiring  to  retain  in  their  own  hands  only  the 
military  power  and  the  general  control  of  the  whole  system.  So 
also  the  ordinary  comforts  which  were  the  product  of  industrial 
activity  were  desired  by  the  conquerors,  but  they  could  secure 
them  only  as  the  old  laborers  could  be  induced  to  carry  on  pro- 
duction somewhat  after  old  Roman  methods.  The  development 
of  agriculture  and  manufactures  had  to  follow  the  lines  laid  down 
by  the  Romans,  modified  by  the  limitations  of  cruder  workman- 
ship. The  economic  patterns,  like  the  ethical,  were  received 
from  the  past. 

There  was  no  province  from  which  the  barbarians  effaced  all  traces  of 
Roman  occupation.  Even  in  Britain,  the  cherry  trees  and  quickset  hedges, 
the  wheat  and  the  cattle,  suggest  the  tradition  of  Roman  agriculture;  while 
the  roads,  canals,  and  buildings  afforded  models  that  were  followed  in  subse- 
quent  times The   physical   relics   of   Roman   civilization   remained 

throughout  the  greater  part  of  the  West;  and  in  some  cities  vestiges  of  Roman 
civilization  were  maintained.  There  was  a  great  heritage  of  manual  skill 
and  mechanical  arts  which  had  been  slowly  built  up  in  Egypt,  Phoenicia, 
Greece,  and  Carthage,  and  which  was  incorporated  in  the  culture  which 
the  Romans  diffused;  and  it  may  be  doubted  if  any  of  the  industrial  arts  as 
known  and  practiced  by  the  Romans  was  wholly  lost  in  the  West.  There 
were,  besides,  forms  of  economic  life  which  reappeared  when  circumstances 
admitted  of  the  revival;  there  was  no  need  to  invent  them  anew.  The  organ- 
ization of  the  mediaeval  estate  has  its  analogue  in  the  Roman  villa;  the  medi- 
aeval city,  with  its  gilds,  is  the  reproduction  of  the  Roman  town  and  its 
collegta.^ 

Much  was  lost  beyond  recovery  in  the  first  confusion;  but  many 
of  the  methods  were  carried  over  by  the  industrial  classes,  and 
upon  them  the  new  lords  had  to  depend  for  what  they  could  not 
themselves  produce.  "Civilization"  in  all  of  its  known  aspects 
was  an  ideal.  It  could  not  at  once  be  realized,  but  there  was  an 
unconscious  movement  toward  its  realization  at  particular  points. 
On  all  sides  of  life  the  most  real  things  in  the  world  were  the  ideals 
which  had  been  inherited  from  antiquity.  All  of  the  particular 
things  of  life  were  mere  stuff  to  be  worked  over  according  to  the 

I  Cunningham,  Western  Civilization  in  Its  Economic  Aspects:  Mediceval 
and  Modern  Times,  5,  6.  Continuity  can  be  proved  only  in  a  few  Italian  cities, 
but  the  influence  of  these  cities  on  the  newly  developing  towns  is  undoubted. 


I04  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

pattern  set.  But  on  the  economic  side  no  legerdemain  and  no 
emotional  contemplation  could  harmonize  the  particulars  and 
the  universals.  To  secure  the  results  the  industrial  life  had  to  be 
carried  forward;  and  in  carrying  it  forward  a  result  was  secured 
that  had  not  been  anticipated,  namely,  the  realization  of  a 
social  order  which  men  had  thought  possible  only  in  the  future 
world. 

Regarding  the  industrial  classes,  an  important  consequence 
flowed  from  the  nature  of  the  industrial  life.  This  will  appear 
in  the  following  chapters,  but  its  general  character  should  be 
noted  in  connection  with  what  has  gone  before.  The  barbarians 
who  were  the  political  masters  wanted  a  civilization  whose  general 
characteristics  they  had  learned  from  the  ancient  world,  but 
which  they  did  not  know  how  to  produce.  The  demand  for  this 
civilization  was  made  on  those  whose  lives  were  under  the  control 
of  these  masters.  But  in  meeting  this  demand  the  laborers  had 
to  be  left  free  to  adopt  methods  which  had  been  carried  over 
from  the  past,  or  which  they  might  work  out  for  themselves. 
Only  the  result  could  be  demanded  by  the  masters.  The  technique 
had  to  be  left  in  control  of  the  laborers.  The  barbarian  lord 
knew  nothing  of  the  processes  involved  in  the  production  of  what 
he  wanted,  and  the  society  which  he  represented  had  no  agents 
who  could  control  the  processes.  Barbarian  society  could  not 
direct  the  laborers  and  artisans  as  ancient  society  had  done.  It 
had  no  social  organs,  no  entrepreneurs,  to  perform  that  function. 
This  was  a  great  advantage  to  the  laborer  in  many  ways.  His 
technique  was  set  free,  though  his  person  might  not  be  legally 
freed.  This  technique  was  carried  over,  to  a  certain  extent,  from 
the  Empire ;  to  some  extent  it  was  the  gradual  development  of  the 
laborers  themselves  as  they  worked  under  the  guidance  of  the 
general  ideals  that  were  given.  The  results,  at  first,  were  ne- 
cessarily crude ;  for  the  barbarians  were  easily  satisfied,  and  there 
was  no  stimulus  to  high  productivity  either  in  quantity  or  in 
quality.  In  any  event,  the  technique  remained  outside  of  the 
political  organization  of  society.  In  ancient  times,  as  has  been 
shown  in  our  consideration  of  the  Egyptian  and  the  Greek  indus- 


THE  PROBLEM  SET  FOR  MEDLEVAL  SOCIETY         10$ 

trial  development,*  society  controlled  both  the  laborer  and  his 
labor.  Society  was  able  to  determine  where  the  product  was  to 
go  and  how  it  was  to  be  produced,  because  the  social  organs  for 
such  control  had  been  developed.  Hence  the  distinction  between 
the  slave  and  the  free  artisan  had  tended  to  disappear.  The  Ro- 
man college  was  little  more  than  an  organization  for  police  pur- 
poses. Its  members  had  a  task  to  perform  which  was  imposed 
upon  them  by  society.  But  society  was  unable  to  control  the 
technique  of  the  mediaeval  laborer.  If  the  given  results  were 
obtained,  society  would  not  interfere  with  his  methods.  And  the 
results  demanded  were  such  that  the  laborer  was  able  to  partici- 
pate in  the  consumption  of  nearly  all  classes  of  commodities  pro- 
duced. The  gild,  when  one  was  formed,  determined  for  itself 
how  the  work  was  to  be  done.  Hence  the  laboring  class  continually 
demanded  and  received  greater  freedom.  The  technical  freedom 
ultimately  involved  political  freedom.  There  was  a  constant 
advance  in  the  expression  of  the  individuality  of  the  laborer. 

It  should  be  noted,  however,  that  this  expression  of  the  indi- 
viduality of  the  laborer  was  for  a  long  time  within  his  calling. 
The  industrial  institution — first  the  manor,  later  the  gild — con- 
trolled the  end  which  he  was  attempting  to  realize.  He  enjoyed 
a  growing  freedom,  but  it  could  be  exercised  only  within  the  in- 
stitution to  which  he  belonged.  The  institution  had  the  place  of 
mediator  between  the  laborer  and  his  economic  ideals,  as  the 
Church  had  on  the  ethical  side.  The  individual's  activity  had 
to  be  within  the  institution.  But  the  gap  here  could  never  be 
spanned  by  supernatural  means.  It  depended  upon  the  technique 
of  the  laborer  to  accomplish  this  result;  and,  therefore,  he  was 
left  free  within  the  institution.  Hence,  personal  slavery  had  to 
cease,  except  in  the  case  of  a  few  domestic  servants,  while  serfdom 
could  continue  so  long  as  the  manorial  organization  lasted,  that 
is,  so  long  as  the  baronial  master  gave  orders  for  his  own  pur- 
poses. When  the  demand  for  the  products  of  industry  came 
from  a  larger  community,  when  the  demand  was  truly  economic 
and  no  longer  that  of  a  political  master,  even  that  serfdom  had 
I  Supra,  28-33,  40-42. 


lo6  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

to  pass  away.  The  institution  of  the  manor  was  then  no  longer 
needed  to  mediate  the  individual's  activities.  He  began  to  func- 
tion in  and  for  a  larger  society. 

In  conclusion,  the  actual  reconstruction  of  society  meant  a 
change  from  the  emotional  recognition  of  social  relations  to  an 
intellectual  recognition.  So  long  as  the  ideal  was  one  which 
went  beyond  the  possibility  of  actual  social  relations,  it  could 
be  held  only  in  emotional  terms;  it  could  not  be  defined.  Recog- 
nition of  sonship  of  God  made  possible  the  recognition  in  emotional 
terms  of  the  brotherhood  of  man;  or,  in  larger  dimensions,  of  a 
social  order  in  which  the  individual  could  normally  function  as 
an  organ  of  the  whole  social  organism.  This  emotional  recogni- 
tion of  the  ideal  social  order  did  not  make  possible  a  definition  of 
the  individual's  rights,  powers,  and  duties,  because  the  latter 
could  only  be  defined  in  terms  of  the  social  order  which  at  that  time 
did  not  exist  in  fact.  The  intellectual  definition  of  the  individual 
could  be  made  only  in  terms  of  the  society  of  which  he  was  the  ex- 
pression. But  that  actual  society  was  regarded  as  temporary 
and  bound  to  give  place  to  an  ideal  society  in  which  a  community 
of  interests  would  be  possible.  Only  in  the  immediate  exercise 
of  social  functions  in  the  new  social  order  could  the  values  of  the 
individual  be  found  and  stated  in  intellectual  terms.  The  bring- 
ing of  all  Europe  into  the  Church  had  given  an  emotional  value 
to  the  individual.  Now,  when  the  movement  which  meant  the 
reconstruction  of  society  in  particular  respects  began,  the  intel- 
lectual definition  of  the  individual  began.  One  after  another  of 
the  barbarous  practices  of  society  was  brought  into  harmony  with 
the  social  ideals  held  by  the  Church.  Gradually  the  social  values 
of  the  essential  activities  of  life  came  to  be  recognized.  In  detail 
the  ideal  social  order  was  becoming  one  of  fact.  When  the  prin- 
cipal functions  of  life  had  passed  over  from  the  worldly  side  of 
the  individual  to  the  side  which  the  Church  represented,  the 
mediaeval  period  was  over  and  the  values  of  the  individual  were 
recognized.  The  modem  individual  is  as  much  more  complete 
than  the  ancient  as  his  consciousness  of  the  social  values  of  his 
actions  is  more  complete  than  such  consciousness  was  in  any 


THE  PROBLEM  SET  FOR  MEDLEVAL  SOCIETY  107 

individual  of  the  past.  Plato's  individual  was  incapable  of  con- 
scious social  activity,  but  pursued  particular  ends  which  an  out- 
side authority  set  for  him.  The  development  of  the  individual 
which  went  on  during  the  Middle  Ages  consisted  in  the  develop- 
ment in  him  of  the  consciousness  of  the  social  value  of  his  acts; 
and  in  proportion  as  that  consciousness  became  clear  his  indi- 
viduality became  more  marked,  until  it  blossomed  in  democracy. 
This  intellectual  statement  of  the  individual  was  impossible  ex- 
cept as  a  statement  of  the  whole  society  became  possible,  and 
the  statement  of  the  whole  society  was  not  possible  until  the  move- 
ment begun  at  the  time  of  the  fall  of  Rome  was  consummated  in 
the  development  of  a  truly  organic  society  which  took  in  the  whole 
civilized  world.  With  the  gradual  application  of  the  universal 
to  the  particular,  the  gradual  realization  of  the  ideal  in  the  par- 
ticular acts  of  life,  the  conception  of  the  simple  relationship  of 
the  individual  to  God  as  involving  undefined  relationships  to  men 
passed  over  to  a  conception  of  the  immediate  and  organic  rela- 
tionships of  men  to  each  other.  The  whole  social  organism 
came  to  act  through  the  particular  organ,  and  when  this  functional 
relationship  was  recognized,  the  individual  was  given  an  intejjec- 
tual  valuation  corresponding  to  the  emotional  valuation  which 
had  been  placed  upon  him  by  the  earliest  Christians.  The  Ref- 
ormation took  place  when  the  intellectual  recognition  of  the  essen- 
tial social  activities  had  developed,  and  the  ecclesiastical  mediation 
between  the  individual  and  society  was  no  longer  needed  and  the 
exercise  of  ecclesiastical  authority  in  the  guidance  of  life  no  longer 
to  be  tolerated. 


CHAPTER  III 
THE  ORGANIZATION  OF  AGRICULTURE 

The  statement  made  at  the  close  of  the  last  chapter  indicates 
the  social-psychical  development  which  was  correlative  with  the 
external  social  development  that  has  been  described  as  the  organ- 
ization of  the  means  of  attaining  the  ideal  social  order.  The 
period  of  disintegration  bordering  on  anarchy  which  followed 
the  irruptions  of  the  barbarians  into  the  Empire  was  really  a  period 
in  which  the  vigorous  but  unorganized  peoples  were  feeling  after 
the  means  for  the  realization  of  a  unified  Christendom,  their  own 
dream  and  the  ideal  of  the  Church.  Obviously,  the  first  step 
toward  the  integration  of  society  had  to  be  the  development  of  a 
settled  food  supply.  Until  a  surplus  of  the  bare  necessaries  of 
life  could  be  secured,  neither  the  production  of  comforts  and 
luxuries  nor  the  organization  of  a  considerable  political  power 
could  take  place.  The  first  problem,  therefore,  was  the  organ- 
izat^n  of  agriculture.  The  organization  of  the  agricultural 
processes  was  the  underlying  cause  of  the  development  of  the 
feudal  system,  while  the  development  of  an  agricultural  surplus 
and  the  re-establishment  of  commerce  caused  the  decay  of  that 
system. 

The  problem  was  a  serious  one  for  both  the  invaders  and  the 
surviving  Roman  populations.  To  the  former  the  food  question 
had  always  been  a  pressing  one.  In  the  earlier  days,  before  the 
Roman  barriers  were  erected,  the  tribes  had  moved  to  new  lands 
whenever  the  population  pressed  upon  the  food  supply.  After  the 
Roman  expansion,  it  became  necessary  for  them  to  adopt  more 
intensive  methods  of  agriculture,  partly  copied  from  the  Romans, 
partly  invented  by  themselves.  But  their  supply  of  food  was 
always  irregular.  Sometimes  the  larder  was  bare,  sometimes 
filled  to  excess.  The  attempt  to  settle  down  in  the  conquered 
Roman  territory  necessitated  a  more  regular  food  basis.  If  the 
Teutonic  peoples  were  to  become  civilized  nations,  it  would  be 

io8 


THE  ORGANIZATION  OF  AGRICULTURE  109 

necessary  for  them  to  secure  a  more  regular  supply  of  the  neces- 
saries of  life.  This  they  attempted  when  they  tried  to  take 
advantage  of  the  Roman  methods  of  agriculture. 

The  invasion  likewise  made  the  food  question  one  of  pressing 
importance  to  the  old  inhabitants  of  the  conquered  countries. 
These  lands  were,  as  a  rule,  very  productive,  but  they  had  ceased 
to  be  self-sufficing.  The  Romans  had  developed  extensive  com- 
mercial interdependence.  In  the  most  fertile  provinces  many 
food  importations  were  necessary.  Italy  had  raised  no  grain 
for  centuries,  and  hardly  any  section  was  entirely  self-supporting. 
By  the  beginning  of  the  fifth  century,  commercial  intercourse 
became  increasingly  more  difficult.  The  Romans  had  been  on 
the  defensive  since  the  crushing  defeat  by  Hermann  in  the  Teuto- 
berg  Forest  (9  a.  d.).  The  advance  guard  of  the  barbarians 
crossed  the  Rhine  at  the  end  of  the  year  406.  It  was  composed 
of  Suevi,  Vandals,  Alans,  and  Burgundians.  Mayence,  Worms, 
Spiers,  Strassburg,  Rheims,  Tournay,  and  Amiens  were  sacked 
by  them.  Later,  the  central  portion  of  Gaul  was  invaded  by 
the  Visigoths,  the  northern  by  the  Franks,  Italy  by  the  Vandals 
and  Ostrogoths.  Then  came  Attila  and  his  Huns,  destroying 
the  few  remaining  cities  of  eastern  Gaul  and  ravaging  the  country 
until  they  were  defeated  by  the  united  Romans  and  barbarians 
at  Chalons  in  451.  Society  was  everywhere  disintegrating. 
Commerce  could  not  exist.  Europe,  whether  Roman  or  Teutonic, 
had  to  develop  her  own  agricultural  basis,  or  perish*  Not  only 
so,  but  each  locality  had  to  develop  its  own  food  basis,  or  perish. 
No  considerable  interchange  of  food  supplies  was  any  longer  pos- 
sible; and,  a  little  later,  almost  no  other  kind  of  commerce  was 
possible.  This  condition  of  affairs  rendered  it  necessary  to  organize 
the  agricultural  processes  in  such  a  way  as  to  secure  an  adequate 
supply  and  to  render  each  local  community  independent  of  every 
other  community.  Only  a  strong  political  organization  could  have 
kept  up  commercial  intercourse,  and  no  such  organization  could 
exist  without  such  intercourse.  Further,  such  an  organization  was 
impossible  among  rough  barbarians,  for  even  those  who  appreciated 
its  desirability  did  not  have  the  political  genius  to  maintain  it. 


i 


no  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

ROMAN  METHODS  AT  THE   TIME   OF  THE   INVASIONS 

The  agricultural  system  that  w£is  organized  was  modeled 
chiefly  after  that  which  had  existed  among  the  Romans.  Before 
tracing  the  mediaeval  development,  it  will  be  well  to  have  before 
us  a  brief  description  of  the  Roman  system.  After  a  long  process 
■  of  experimentation,  the  Roman  domains  had  come  to  be  divided 
into  two  parts:  that  cultivated  by  the  familia,  the  produce  of 
which  accrued  entirely  to  the  benefit  of  the  master;  and  that  cul- 
tivated by  small  farmers,  the  produce  of  which  was  divided 
between  the  farmer  and  the  landowner.  Where  the  slave  was  per- 
mitted to  cultivate  a  separate  lot,  he  was  doubtless  a  tenant  on 
certain  days  and  returned  to  the  familia  and  worked  in  the  gang 
on  the  reserved  lands  on  other  days.^  This  system  of  working 
on  the  reserved  lands  on  certain  days  was  found  in  the  serfdom 
of  the  Middle  Ages,  but  not  in  the  old  Germanic  serfdom.  The 
rural  domain  was  a  very  complex  organization,  containing  lands 
of  all  kinds — fields,  vineyards,  forests,  etc. — and  men  of  all  con- 
ditions— slaves  without  tenure,  slaves  holding  allotments,  freed- 
men,  colons,  freemen.  The  proprietor  received  the  products  of 
the  reserved  portions  and  the  rentals  of  those  under  tenure." 
The  same  superintendent  administered  and  oversaw  the  two  parts 
alike. 

As  to  the  men  on  the  domains,  we  find  that  they  were  of  vari- 
ous conditions.  The  slaves  who  were  engaged  in  the  personal 
service  of  the  master,  valets,  secretaries,  couriers,  and  domestic 
servants,  constituted  the  familia  urhana.  The  rural  slaves,  those 
occupied  with  the  cultivation  of  the  soil  and  those  who  constructed 
and  repaired  buildings  and  implements,  constituted  the  familia 
rustica.  The  free  village  did  not  exist,  but  all  of  the  elements  of 
the  village  were  found  on  the  domain.  The  agricultural  slave 
usually  cultivated  about  six  acres  of  vineyard  or  eight  acres  of  field. 
The  slaves  were  called  servi,  but  this  term,  which  was  retained 
by  the  Germans  to  designate  the  serfs  of  the  Middle  Ages,  never 
meant  anything  other  than  slave  among  the  Romans.     The  true 

I  Varrus,  De  re  rustica,  i,  17. 

»  Fustel  de  Coulanges,  L'alleu  et  le  domaine  rural,  79-87. 


THE  ORGANIZATION  OF  AGRICULTURE  HI 

slave  among  both  the  Romans  and  the  Teutons  was  always  an 
object  of  property.  He  could  be  sold,  leased,  or  given  away. 
He  could  not  inherit,  even  if  his  parents  were  free.  He  might 
have  a  peculium  as  a  reward  for  special  industry,  but  the  posses- 
sion of  this  was  not  guaranteed  by  law.  It  belonged  to  the  master, 
though  usually  left  in  the  possession  of  the  slave  or  his  children.* 
The  beginnings  of  serfdom  were  found  only  in  the  later  days  of 
the  Empire,  and  then  only  the  beginnings.  Rome  knew  only  per- 
sonal slavery  to  the  master.  The  slaves  worked  in  gangs  upon 
the  land  of  the  master;  whereas,  the  later  serfs  never  worked  in 
gangs,  though  groups  would  work  in  common  on  the  lord's  strips 
or  demesne.  Until  a  late  period,  the  Romans  did  not  learn  that 
it  might  be  more  profitable  to  permit  each  slave  to  work  on  a  sepa- 
rate lot  from  generation  to  generation.  When  immense  terri- 
tories were  conquered,  the  Romans  were  embarrassed  with  them, 
not  knowing  how  to  make  the  ancient  inhabitants  cultivate  them 
as  serfs.  Something  approaching  serfdom  was  gradually  intro- 
duced among  the  Romans.  Here  and  there,  a  reliable  slave 
would  be  permitted  to  work  alone  on  the  same  lot  year  after  year, 
under  the  orders  of  the  overseer,  and  would  be  allowed  to  enjoy  a 
proportion  of  the  fruits  of  his  field.  Good  servants  frequently 
came  to  have  such  a  peculium.  Gradually  the  jurisconsults 
came  to  speak  more  definitely  of  servile  tenures  and  to  mention 
the  slave  farmer  as  a  quasi-colonus.'  Between  a  master  and  his 
slave  no  contract  could  be  made  to  bind  the  former  to  regard 
such  a  tenure,  but  the  tacit  understanding  tended  to  perpetuate 
itself  in  the  interest  of  both  parties.  The  slave  was  still  in  per- 
sonal servitude,  but  was  permitted  to  cultivate  a  particular  field 
instead  of  working  in  a  gang.  Still,  a  large  number  of  slaves  were 
usually  continued  under  the  old  method.  The  legal  status  of 
the  slave  was  unchanged.  He  was  still  personal  property,  and 
could  be  returned  to  his  old  position  or  sold  from  the  domain  at 
the  pleasure  of  his  master.  But  since  the  master  would  usually 
find  it  to  his  interest  to  allow  the  slave  to  continue  to  cultivate  under 

'  Coulanges,  op.  cit.,  290-98. 
'  Ulpian,  Digest,  zxxiii,  7,  12. 


112  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

this  new  condition  and  to  permit  the  son  of  the  slave  to  enjoy  the 
same  privileges,  the  servile  tenure  became  practically  permanent.^ 
In  the  course  of  time,  the  government  came  to  regard  this  tenure 
as  permanent,  and  legislated  to  prevent  masters  from  detaching 
slaves  from  the  land."  The  fiscal  arrangements  of  the  Empire 
strengthened  this  tendency.  Such  slaves  came  to  be  attached  to 
the  land  rather  than  to  the  master;  but  the  proportion  of  slaves 
who  continued  to  work  on  the  reserved  lands  in  gangs  remained 
much  greater  than  the  other  class  during  the  entire  Roman  period. 
Only  the  germ  of  serfdom  was  found  in  Roman  society.^ 

Industrially  the  condition  of  the  freedmen  did  not  differ  greatly 
from  that  of  the  better  slaves.  Among  Romans  and  Germans 
alike  the  freedman  could  not  be  regarded  as  completely  free."* 
As  enfranchisement  depended  entirely  upon  the  will  of  the  master 
it  did  not  seem  possible  that  such  a  change  should  remove  the  obli- 
gations of  service  altogether.  The  time,  money,  works,  of  the 
freedman  belonged  to  the  master,  and  the  latter  could  sell,  lease, 
or  give  away  his  rights  in  the  freedman. '  Among  the  Germans 
also  the  freedman  was  little  better  than  a  slave.  ^  Some  time 
after  the  conquests,  the  freedmen  were  found  working  under  the 
conditions  above  described  as  those  of  the  better  class  of  slaves. 
In  so  far  as  he  was  used  in  agricultural  labor  among  the  Romans 
— he  was  usually  employed  at  other  service — he  doubtless  occupied 
a  similar  position. 

There  were  also  in  Roman  society  many  freemen  who  culti- 
vated the  land  of  others.  These  farmed  under  contract,  usually 
for  a  period  of  five  years,  though  the  contract  could  be  renewed 
from  year  to  year  by  the  farmer  remaining  on  the  land  without 
opposition.  The  contract  was  not  broken  by  the  death  of  either 
party  or  by  the  sale  of  the  domain.    The  farmer  was  attached  to 

I  Coulanges,  op.  cii.,  50-56. 
'  Justinian  Code,  xi,  48. 

3  Coulanges,  op.  cit.,  57. 

4  Wallon,  Histoire  de  I'esclavage  dans  I'antiquiU,  11,  386,  387. 
s  Ibid.,  397  ff. 

6  "  Liberti  non  multum  supra  servos  sunt. " — Tacitus,  Germania,  xxv. 


THE  ORGANIZATION  OF  AGRICULTURE  113 

the  soil,  as  under  serfdom,  but  only  for  a  term  of  years.  While 
the  contract  was  in  force,  the  law  would  compel  him  to  keep  his 
agreement.  The  farmer,  however,  was  free,  for  a  contract  among 
the  Romans  always  imphed  two  free  persons.  In  practice,  how- 
ever, the  farmer,  though  free,  occupied  a  very  inferior  position. 
His  work  was  under  the  direction  of  the  superintendent  of  the 
domain,  who  was  usually  a  slave  or  freedman;  and  he  suffered 
all  of  the  disadvantages  that  the  weak  must  always  suffer  in  getting 
contracts  with  the  powerful  enforced.^ 

The  legal  name  of  the  small  free  farmer  was  conductor,  but  he 
was  commonly  called  colonus.  In  time  he  became  a  colon  in 
fact  as  well  as  in  name.  He  lost  his  freedom  to  leave  the  land  he 
cultivated.  This  change  took  place  gradually,  and  was  only  later 
legahzed;  but  before  they  were  legally  attached  to  the  soil,  many 
of  the  colons  could  be  held  by  the  landowners  because  they  had 
become  debtors.  The  masters  were  the  more  anxious  to  hold  the 
colons,  because  the  completion  of  the  Roman  conquests  had  cut 
off  the  supply  of  slaves.  In  a  constitution  of  Constantine  (332) 
the  colons  were  recognized  as  permanently  attached  to  the  soil. 
The  colons  could  not  be  separated  from  the  soil  against  their 
wishes,  nor  could  their  rent  be  increased.  The  tendency  to 
make  certain  slaves  quasi-colons,  as  indicated  above,  became 
more  marked  when  the  scarcity  of  labor  rendered  the  slaves' 
physical  well-being  an  object  to  the  master.  A  law  of  Valen- 
tinian  I  (377)  forbade  the  sale  of  these  slaves  apart  from  the  land, 
thus  rendering  their  condition  and  that  of  the  colons  almost 
identical.*  The  free  cultivator  could  neither  be  ejected  from  the 
villa  nor  leave  it  himself.  Yet  the  colon  did  not  become  a  slave. 
He  had  a  family,  could  inherit  property,  and  could  secure  the 
protection  of  the  courts  against  his  master.  ^  He  could  not  be 
made  to  perform  personal  services  for  his  master,  as  the  ordinary 
slave  could  be  required  to  do. 

^  Coulanges,  op.  cit.,  61-68. 

» Ingram,  A  History  of  Slavery  and  Serfdom,  chap,  iv,  passim. 
3  Justinian  Code,  xi,  47  (13  and  23),  50  (1);  Theodosian  Code,  v,  11  (i),  xii, 
I  (33)- 


114  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

The  status  of  the  colon  was  fixed  by  the  practices  of  the  mas- 
ter and  the  requirements  of  the  Empire.  Both  the  master  and 
the  government  were  interested  in  securing  the  cultivation  of  the 
soil;  and  the  colon  system  seemed  the  most  legitimate  and  the 
most  certain  to  assure  the  cultivation.  The  fiscal  arrangements 
of  the  third  and  fourth  centuries  helped  to  fix  the  condition  of 
the  colon.  Proprietors  were  bound  to  pay  the  capitation  tax  of 
free  peasants  employed  on  their  domains  as  well  as  that  of  their 
agricultural  slaves.  As  the  interests  of  the  government  and  of 
the  proprietor  were  to  restrain  free  laborers  from  leaving  the  soil, 
the  latter  were  attached  to  the  soil  and  sank  to  the  condition  of 
serfs;  and  the  government  having  an  interest  in  preventing  pro- 
prietors from  withdrawing  slaves  from  agriculture,  the  latter  arose 
to  the  condition  of  the  serfs.^  Thus,  the  tendency  during  the 
later  years  of  the  Empire  was  to  depress  the  free  peasant  by  pre- 
venting him  from  leaving  the  soil  and  to  raise  the  slave  by  mak- 
ing his  servitude  impersonal  and  by  attaching  him  to  the  soil. 
Work  in  gangs  was  still  common  among  the  Romans,  but  tenures 
were  increasing.  In  various  sections  conditions  varied;  but  one 
rule  existed  everywhere:  conditions  once  established  were  not  to 
be  changed.  The  proprietor  could  not  exact  more  from  the  colon 
than  he  had  exacted  from  the  colon's  father.  When  a  colon  im- 
proved the  soil  by  his  labor,  the  benefits  accrued  to  his  children, 
since  the  rental  could  not  be  increased.' 

Among  the  semi-servile  lati  who  had  been  forced  to  settle  on 
the  vast  Ager  publicus  of  Gaul  the  same  tendencies  were  found. 
The  fiscal  ofiicers  who  had  charge  of  these  domains  assumed  a 
manorial  lordship  over  the  lands  assigned  to  their  care.  To 
escape  the  exactions  of  these  ofl&cers  the  farmers  frequently  placed 
themselves  under  the  protection  of  powerful  neighboring  proprie- 
tors by  commendation;  and  these  lords  could  defy  the  officials. 
The  farmers  would  surrender  their  holdings  to  the  wealthy  noble- 
men, immediately  receiving  them  back  to  be  enjoyed  during 
their  lifetime.     These   holdings   thus  became   tenancies   at   the 

I  Finlay,  History  of  Greece  from  the  Conquest  by  the  Romans,  I,  153,  154. 
»  Coulanges,  op.  cit.,  78,  79. 


THE  ORGANIZATION  OF  AGRICULTURE  115 

will  of  the  lord,  but  the  farmer's  children  were  usually  allowed  to 
hold  the  same  tenure.  These  cultivators,  whether  remaining 
under  the  arbitrary  imperial  officers,  or  escaping  from  their  exac- 
tions to  become  tenants  of  neighboring  private  landlords,  thus 
fell  into  the  position  of  colons.^  Everywhere  the  exigencies  of 
cultivation  and  of  the  government's  treasury  were  producing  a 
system  very  similar  to  that  which  we  find  in  the  Middle  Ages; 
but  the  condition  of  the  agricultural  laborers  was  less  free  than 
it  became  later,  because  the  Romans  had  long-established  methods 
which  tended  to  bind  the  workmen,  and  skilled  superintendents 
who  could  keep  them  in  control.  A  great  change  had  come  over 
Roman  agriculture  since  the  days  of  Cato  and  Columella  when 
the  domain  was  cultivated  by  slaves  working  in  gangs  for  the  sole 
profit  of  the  master,  only  a  few  colons  occupying  small  lots  in 
severalty.  The  proprietor  had  found  that  better  results  could 
be  obtained  by  giving  the  slave  a  small  lot  to  cultivate,  a  portion 
of  the  produce  becoming  the  slave's  peculium.  This  plan  was 
also  pursued  with  freedmen,  and  most  frequently  with  colons. 
The  Roman  proprietor  reserved  a  portion  of  his  estate  to  be  ex- 
ploited for  himself  by  his  gang  of  slaves,  or  by  the  days'  labor 
due  by  the  tenants  on  the  other  part  of  his  domain.  All  of  the 
laborers  were  under  the  direction  of  the  lord's  villicus,  who,  with 
all  other  officials,  was  a  personal  slave  or  freedman  of  the  lord. 
It  seems  that  this  was  considered  a  kind  of  work  which  only 
the  personal  representative  of  the  lord  could  satisfactorily  perform. 
Everywhere  the  manorial  system  was  in  process  of  formation, 
though  it  can  not  be  said  that  it  was  ever  brought  into  complete 
existence  among  the  Romans. 

TEUTONIC  AGRICULTURAL  METHODS 

We  have  already  seen  that  the  Teutonic  tribes  had  been  obliged 
to  begin  a  somewhat  intensive  system  of  agriculture  when  a  check 
was  placed  on  their  wanderings  by  the  Roman  barriers.  StiU, 
their  land  was  in  general  so  poorly  adapted  to  agriculture  and 
their  habits  so  non-industrial  that  their  methods  of  cultivation 

I  Seebohm,  The  English  Village  Community,  280-82,  300-311. 


Il6  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

could  receive  relatively  little  development  until  they  came  in  close 
contact  with  the  Romans.  The  earlier  German  agriculture  was 
carried  on  on  a  communal  basis.*  That  the  Germans  had  lived 
in  free  village  communities  can  not  be  doubted.  Even  if  we  had 
none  of  the  important  direct  evidence  of  the  fact,  a  comparative 
study  of  all  other  peoples  in  a  similar  stage  of  culture  would  con- 
vince us  that  such  was  the  case.  This  contention  of  the  "Ger- 
manists  "  can  not  be  disputed,  but  it  does  not  prove  their  point — 
that  the  institutions  of  mediaeval  Europe  were  simply  the  outgrowth 
of  Germanic  village  life.  Long  before  the  invasions,  changes 
were  taking  place  in  the  agricultural  methods  which  were  revo- 
lutionizing the  communal  institutions.  Land  was  being  occupied 
for  a  long  period  of  time,  and  was  passing  into  private  ownership. 
When  pure  nomads,  the  tribes  had  not,  of  course,  anything  re- 
sembling private  property  in  land.^  As  semi-agriculturists, 
they  cared  for  only  such  control  of  the  land  as  would  secure  the 
limited  supply  of  agricultural  products  needed  for  their  support. 
With  their  enforced  settlement  within  limited  areas,  and  with 
the  change  of  the  communal  institutions  necessitated  by  con- 
stant strife,  lands  passed  into  private  ownership,  and  even  into 
the  possession  of  a  few  of  the  more  powerful  families. 

The  earlier  agriculture  had  doubtless  been  entirely  in  the 
hands  of  the  women;  but  with  the  introduction  of  slavery,  the 
slaves  were  compelled  to  attend  to  most  of  the  agricultural  work. 
So  long  as  society  was  organized  on  a  militant  basis,  the  freemen 
could  pay  little  attention  to  industrial  pursuits.  The  barbarian 
master  gave  no  more  attention  to  the  direction  of  the  work  of 
slaves  than  he  liad  given  to  the  work  of  women.  The  former 
were  simply  brought  in  to  assist  the  latter.  The  labor  had  to  be 
performed ;  but  how  it  was  performed  was  not  a  matter  of  interest 
to  the  freeman.  From  the  time  of  Tacitus  agriculture  was  an 
important  industry  among  the  Germans,  and  was  carried  on  by 

» Supra,  83-87. 

"  "When  grass  was  as  plentiful  as  fish,  the  human  race  treated  the  respective 
elements  in  which  these  two  commodities  flourished  very  similarly." — Garnier, 
Annals  0}  the  British  Peasantry,  i. 


THE  ORGANIZATION  OF  AGRICULTURE  117 

slaves  on  lands  which  were  passing  from  communal  to  family 
ownership.  The  land  was  still  the  least  valuable  of  possessions, 
for  it  was  hkely  to  be  changed  from  time  to  time.  The  real 
wealth  of  the  tribesman  consisted  in  his  cattle  and  slaves.  The 
individual  or  family  control  of  land  was  beginning,  but  it  was 
only  after  the  migrations  had  ceased  that  its  importance  could 
become  marked.  When  a  new  tract  of  land  was  taken  possession 
of  by  the  tribe,  it  was  divided  among  the  households,  and  each 
household  ploughed  up  a  portion  of  its  grass  land,  periodically 
shifting  the  fields,  but  simply  to  allow  a  part  that  had  been 
worked  to  recuperate  as  grass  land  for  future  cultivation.^  The 
free  tribesmen  scattered  over  the  tract  selected  by  the  tribe, 
"dweUing  apart  and  scattered,  as  spring  or  field  or  grove  pleased 
them."  The  slaves  of  the  tribesman  dwelt  in  a  village  on  the 
lands  controlled  by  him,  each  having  a  house  and  family.  They 
farmed  for  the  master,  not  in  gangs,  as  the  Roman  slaves  of  Ta- 
citus' time  did,  but  somewhat  as  the  Roman  colons  did,  giving  to 
the  master  a  portion  of  the  product.  Domestic  service  was  usually 
performed  by  the  freeman's  wife  and  children.  The  German 
servus  was  practically  equivalent  to  the  Roman  colonus.' 

So  long  as  the  tribe  remained  in  one  place,  this  arrangement 
continued.  It  had  many  striking  points  of  resemblance  to  the 
Roman  villa.  However,  the  estate  was  usually  held  by  a  house- 
hold, rather  than  by  a  single  lord.  This  made  no  particular 
difference  in  the  internal  economy  until  the  tribal  household  had 
to  be  subdivided,  say  in  the  third  generation,  when,  of  course, 
the  holding  had  to  be  subdivided  also.  When  land  was  no  longer 
plentiful,  these  subdivisions  could  not  be  carried  on  indefinitely, 
and,  therefore,  the  land  would  tend  to  pass  into  the  hands  of  a 
single  lord,  the  subordinate  members  of  his  family  becoming  de- 
pendent upon  him.  These  freemen  who  were  no  longer  able  to 
maintain  their  equahty  were  the  more  willing  to  take  a  subordi- 
nate position,  because  the  tribes  were  organized  on  a  permanent 

»  Cf.  Seebohm's  comments  on  Germania,  xvi,  op.  cit.,  342-45. 
»  Tacitus,  Germania,  xvi.      Cf.  also  ibid.,  xxv;    Grimm,  Rechtsalterthilmer, 
350- 


Il8  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

military  basis  which,  as  we  have  seen,  took  the  form  of  the  comi- 
tatus.  When  the  whole  tribe  migrated,  a  new  distribution  of 
lands  took  place;  but  after  the  new  settlement  had  been  estab- 
lished, things  went  on  as  before.  When  the  tribes  could  no  longer 
migrate  beyond  the  Rhine,  they  broke  into  the  Empire  and  secured 
new  lands  there. 

The  settlement  of  a  tribal  household  was  designated  by  a 
patronymic  ending  in  -ing.  Where  tribal  households  had  broken 
up  and  a  single  lord  had  come  to  hold  the  lands  indej&nitely — a 
condition  of  things  found  only  where  the  Roman  influence  was 
strong — the  estates  bore  names  ending  in  -ham  or  -heim,  the 
suffix  -tun  also  being  found  in  Britain.  When,  finally,  some 
of  the  estates  held  by  tribal  households  passed  under  individual 
ownership,  they  were  called  both  -ings  and  -heims,  as  -ingham. 
These  words  indicating  individual  ownership  had  the  same  sig- 
nificance as  the  Latin  villa.  They  were  frequently  used  inter- 
changeably with  that  word  in  the  earlier  records  of  manors.  The 
barbarians  themselves  would  frequently  Germanize  the  Latin 
word  weiler  and  apply  it  to  the  same  estates  which  bore  the  name 
-heim.^  Wherever  the  tribes  entered  upon  a  settled  mode  of 
life,  the  agricultural  organization  took  on  some  of  the  features  of 
the  Roman  villa;  and  when  they  were  brought  into  very  close 
contact  with  Roman  settlements,  their  estates  became  almost 
exactly  like  the  villas.  The  manorial  organization  of  later  times 
can  not  be  said  to  have  existed  among  either  Romans  or  Germans, 
but  similar  conditions  among  both  peoples  were  causing  like 
developments  tending  toward  the  manorial  type.  It  must  be 
remembered,  however,  that  the  Teutonic  cultivators  always 
worked  on  shares,  the  reserved  portion  of  the  domain  worked 
by  gangs  of  slaves  never  being  found,  except,  perhaps,  in  a  few 
instances  where  the  German  lord  had  been  wholly  Romanized. 

The  manor — in  embryo — was,  in  fact,  already  in  course  of  development. 
The  German  economic  system  was,  to  say  the  very  least,  working  itself  out 
on  lines  so  nearly  parallel  to  those  of  the  Roman  manorial  system  that  we 
can  not  wonder  at  the  silent  ease  with  which,  before  and  after  the  conquest 

'  Seebohm,  op.  cit.,  253-62,  346-62. 


THE  ORGANIZATION  OF  AGRICULTURE  119 

of  Roman  provinces,  German  chieftains  became  lords  of  villas  and  manors. 
The  two  systems,  Roman  and  German,  may  well  have  easily  combined  in 
producing  the  later  manorial  system  which  grew  up  in  the  Roman  provinces 
of  Gaul  and  the  two  Germanies.' 

When  the  Germans  entered  the  Empire  and  took  possession 
of  the  Roman  estates,  they  readily  adapted  themselves  to  the 
system  they  found  there.  Their  own  system  of  servile  cultiva- 
tion so  closely  resembled  the  Roman  colonate  that  they  not  only 
allowed  the  latter  to  remain,  but  even  extended  it  to  take  in  the 
whole  servile  population.  Personal  slavery  was  useless  to  them 
and  soon  disappeared.  The  demesne  was  cultivated,  largely 
at  least,  by  the  same  laborers  who  were  working  other  parts  of 
the  estate  on  shares,  their  services  to  the  landlord  being  rendered 
as  rental  for  their  holdings.  The  old  terms  which  had  designated 
various  classes  of  servile  laborers  long  remained,  but  they  all 
came  to  be  applied  to  persons  of  one  class.  A  few  slaves  may 
have  remained  for  some  time  in  non-agricultural  service,  but  im- 
mediately after  the  invasions  the  greater  number  of  slaves  became 
serfs.  Domesday  Book  shows  that  the  send  constituted  but  9 
per  cent,  of  the  population  of  England,  and  by  far  the  greater 
number  of  these  were  in  the  west  and  southwest  where  the 
manorial  system  was  least  advanced.  Within  a  century  after  the 
conquest  by  the  Normans,  these  had  entirely  disappeared.  The 
Roman  servus  remained  a  personal  slave  down  to  the  last;  and 
yet,  if  the  Empire  had  stood  a  few  centuries  longer,  it  is  possible 
that  the  necessities  of  more  intensive  agricultural  methods  would 
have  led  to  a  loss  of  that  complete  control  of  the  laborer's  activity 
which  was  characteristic  of  the  whole  Roman  period.  When 
the  laborer  is  given  freedom  to  pursue  his  own  methods,  he  has 
advanced  far  toward  legal  freedom.  However,  the  methods  of 
control  which  society  exercised  must  have  continued  to  hold  the 
laborer  in  a  servile  condition.  But  the  barbarians  were  unable 
to  control  their  slaves  as  the  Romans  had  done.  They  had 
possessed  slaves  for  a  long  time.  These  were  conquered  tribes 
or  individual  captives,  prisoners  for  debt  or  for  lost  wagers.    They 

»  Seebohm,  op.  cit.,  346. 


120  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

had  no  civil  rights,  but  the  simple  conditions  of  German  life,  re- 
quiring no  great  division  of  labor,  had  made  an  extensive  slave 
system  impossible.  Some  slaves  might  be  required  to  perform 
domestic  drudgery,  but  the  greater  number  cared  for  the  flocks 
and  herds  and  cultivated  the  fields  somewhat  after  the  manner 
of  the  later  serfs.  When  the  tribes  became  relatively  settled 
and  the  tribal  families  scattered,  as  described  by  Tacitus,  the 
slaves  became  villagers,  carrying  on  their  industrial  pursuits 
with  little  interference  from  their  masters,  while  the  latter  devoted 
themselves  to  war  and  the  chase.  If  any  of  these  tribal  house- 
holds possessed  no  slaves,  it  is  perfectly  possible  that  they  may 
have  remained  practically  free  village  communities  for  a  time, 
the  freemen  cultivating  the  fields  which  they  owned  in  common. 
But  this  condition  of  affairs  could  not  last  very  long;  for  the  tribal 
household  would  either  get  slaves  or  perish  when  the  military 
movements  became  common,  since  only  a  slave-holding  people 
could  maintain  an  efficient  military  organization  and  secure  the 
supply  of  its  economic  needs.  Possibly  the  -ing  would  pass  into 
the  hands  of  a  chief,  the  other  freemen  becoming  soldiers  and 
receiving  their  support  from  the  chief.  In  this  case,  the  -ing 
would  have  become  a  -heim.  Whatever  the  organization  of  the 
free-men,  the  servile  population  occupied  a  position  analogous  to 
that  of  the  Roman  colons,  and  it  was  easy  for  the  German 
chieftain  to  turn  over  the  agricultural  labor  to  the  slaves  and 
colons  already  on  the  conquered  domains,  and  thus  to  strengthen 
the  tendency  toward  an  impersonal  serfdom  already  going  on 
vidthin  the  Empire.  The  development  toward  the  mediaeval 
manor  was  most  marked  where  the  tribes  came  in  contact  with  the 
Roman  domains;  and,  naturally,  the  agricultural  organization 
found  on  the  conquered  lands  did  not  need  to  be  greatly  disturbed. 
It  was  not  greatly  disturbed  in  its  external  aspects,  though  its 
efficiency  was  greatly  lessened. 

THE  FEUDAL  SYSTEM  AND  AGRICULTURE 

The  vicissitudes  of  the  invasions  favored  the  destruction  of 
the  last  vestiges  of  the  old  tribal  organization  and  the  develop- 


THE  ORGANIZATION  OF  AGRICULTURE  121 

ment  of  feudal  institutions.  Conditions  favorable  to  communal 
ownership  of  land  had  ceased  to  exist  in  many  sections  long  before 
the  invasions.  When  the  chiefs  and  their  men  of  war  settled  down 
on  the  conquered  estates,  there  was  absolutely  no  possibility  of 
communal  ownership.  Either  the  land  would  be  divided  among 
all  the  members  of  the  company,  when  each  tribesman  would 
have  a  domain  on  which  he  could  exploit  the  provincials  who  fell 
to  his  share ;  or  the  chiefs  would  appropriate  all  lands,  supporting 
their  men  in  return  for  military  service,  and  requiring  the  servile 
population  to  carry  on  the  agricultural  work.  In  a  society  organ- 
ized principally  for  military  purposes  the  latter  arrangement 
would  seem  to  be  the  more  natural  one,  for  the  freemen  had  to  be 
kept  under  arms.  There  was  no  place  for  the  free  village  com- 
munity, since  the  common  soldiers  formed  something  like  the 
comitatus  when  they  conquered  and  held  the  Roman  lands. 
Even  in  the  earlier  days,  those  who  were  members  of  the  comitatus 
were  withdrawn,  for  the  time  at  least,  from  the  tribal  village. 
Undoubtedly,  so  long  as  the  tribal  village  lasted,  the  assembly 
of  the  whole  people  settled  all  important  matters,  only  affairs  of 
a  routine  nature  being  left  to  Gaukonigen  and  Gaugrafen.^  The 
Marcomanni,  Lombards,  Franks,  and  Anglo-Saxons  had  no 
kings  in  their  earliest  historical  period.  The  military  leader 
had  been  a  temporary  functionary,  frequently  chosen  by  lot. 
But  the  movement  of  the  tribes  and  the  constant  struggles  with 
organized  forces  required  constant  leadership.  The  popular 
assembly  became  impossible.  A  tribe  which  could  not  organize 
a  strong  military  government  could  not  survive  in  the  struggle 
for  existence.  The  war-chief  had  to  become  permanent  when 
war  was  incessant,  and  he  could  easily  extend  his  power  from 
supreme  command  in  the  field  to  supreme  command  in  all  things. 
Only  once  or  twice  did  the  army  attempt  to  check  Clovis;  and 
after  the  conquest  of  the  Prankish  empire  no  gathering  of  the 
nation  was  possible.'      Clovis  was  already  a  king  with  some- 

I  Wietersheim,  Geschichte  der  Volkerwanderung    (Dahn  ed.),  I,  38,  67,  216, 
531-34- 

'  Oman,  The  Dark  Ages,  121,  122. 


122  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

thing  like  despotic  powers.  His  chiefs  were  military  leaders 
who  continued  to  exercise  their  profession,  becoming  during  the 
period  of  royal  weakness  almost  independent  monarchs.  During 
the  whole  Merovingian  period,  it  was  practically  impossible  to 
disband  the  armed  companies  and  form  settlements  in  village 
communities.  The  agricultural  processes  had  to  be  carried  on 
by  the  subject  population,  and  the  military  organization  prevented 
any  general  distribution  of  the  common  soldiers  upon  small  estates. 
Nor  did  the  latter  settle  in  self-governing  villages  on  the  estates 
of  their  chieftains.  They  became  men-at-arms  under  the  new 
order  of  things.  The  industrial  life  was  not  essentially  changed 
by  the  migrations.  The  freemen  had  not  worked  before;  they 
were  not  likely  to  do  so  after  they  had  made  a  move  which  was 
intended  to  better  their  condition.  The  change  meant  simply 
that  there  had  come  to  be  one  master  of  a  large  number  of  slaves, 
instead  of  many  masters  of  small  groups.  The  common  freemen 
now  depended  upon  this  powerful  chief  for  their  economic  needs. 
In  general,  it  may  be  better  to  regard  the  Roman  system  as  con- 
tinuing, modified  by  Germanic  customs;  rather  than  the  German 
customs  as  being  carried  over,  simply  modified  by  the  Roman 
system. 

These  facts  will  appear  more  clearly  as  we  take  up  in  some 
detail  the  development  in  the  three  or  four  main  sections  into 
which  Europe  was  divided.  In  what  follows,  either  the  more 
striking  characteristics  of  the  development  in  the  respective  sec- 
tions, or  those  features  which  were  common  to  all  sections,  but 
which  have  been  fully  discussed  with  reference  to  a  particular 
locality,  are  presented  as  arising  in  this  or  that  division  of  Europe; 
but  it  must  be  understood  that  all  these  are  parts  of  one  whole. 
Italy  shows  certain  aspects  of  the  disintegrating  tendency ;  England, 
where  the  Danish  and  Norman  conquests  followed  the  Saxon, 
remained  in  a  backward  condition  long  enough  to  enable  us  to 
gather  certain  information  regarding  the  status  of  various  classes 
of  men  and  the  prevailing  methods  of  agriculture,  that  we  do  not 
find  elsewhere;  while  on  the  Continent  north  of  Italy  the  main 
movement  of  mediaeval  history  went  on  and  feudal  institutions 
received  their  typical  development.     Italy  is  treated  briefly,  as  lying 


THE  ORGANIZATION  OF  AGRICULTURE  123 

somewhat  outside  of  the  real  life  of  Europe;  England  is  treated 
next,  because  some  of  the  facts  brought  out  in  the  discussions 
concerning  the  English  development  help  us  to  a  better  under- 
standing of  the  matters  which  claim  our  attention  when  we  take 
up  some  larger  movements  on  the  Continent.  Neither  geographi- 
cal nor  chronological  considerations  justify  this  order,  but  it  ap- 
pears convenient  to  the  author;  and,  it  may  be  added,  it  is  only 
because  of  his  inability  to  make  a  satisfactory  generalization  of 
the  whole  movement,  that  the  discussion  is  narrowed  by  geographi- 
cal or  local  historical  treatment. 

Italy. — In  Italy,  where  the  resistance  to  the  Lombard  invasion 
was  very  slight,  or  at  least  not  concentrated,  and  where  external 
foes  did  not  compel  a  constant  effort  on  the  part  of  the  combined 
forces  of  the  invaders,  society  immediately  split  up  into  many 
small  principalities.  No  central  government  was  possible  after 
the  death  of  Alboin.  Each  duke  was  a  monarch  in  his  petty 
dominions.  The  Lombards  were  too  barbarous  when  they  in- 
vaded Italy  to  regard  themselves  as  a  nation  or  to  comprehend 
the  value  of  a  centraUzed  government.  The  king  was  only  a 
war-leader;  and  after  the  first  march  was  accomplished,  they  no 
longer  felt  the  need  of  one.  Yet  conditions  did  not  admit  of  the 
continuance  of  primitive  Teutonic  habits.  The  different  tribes 
were  so  constantly  at  war  with  one  another  and  with  the  Roman 
cities  that  the  military  leaders  became  absolute  rulers.  By  the  end 
of  the  sixth  century,  the  Lombards  had  all  received  Christianity, 
had  settled  down  in  their  new  homes,  and  were  beginning  to  build 
churches  and  castles.^  But  by  this  time  of  settlement,  the  primi- 
tive organization  had  been  too  long  disrupted  and  the  power  of 
the  dukes  too  long  maintained,  for  a  return  to  the  older  customs. 
The  military  organization  was  kept  up,  though  no  nation  could 
be  consolidated.  No  vestige  of  free  village  communities  or  of 
government   by   the   assembled   freemen   remained." 

'  Oman,  op.  cit.,  195. 

^  The  Edictum  Rotharis,  a  very  early  code  formulated  in  643,  defines  the 
duties  of  men  to  their  lord,  describing  barones,  men,  and  aldiani,  but  no  independent 
freemen  except  nobles.  It  indicates  that  the  people  dwelt  apart  on  individual  or 
family  estates. 


124  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

The  lands  were  divided  among  the  conquerors.  The  dukes 
sought  to  secure  strongholds  where  they  might  rule  with  absolute 
authority.  The  want  of  vigor  of  the  sovereign  power  compelled 
many  minor  lords  to  accept  the  position  of  vassals  to  more  power- 
ful neighbors  who  could  protect  them,  while  the  difficulty  in  en- 
forcing authority  over  wide  territories  compelled  the  great  lords 
to  cede  a  part  of  their  lands  in  benefice  to  lesser  vassals  who  might 
be  of  some  benefit  to  them,^  Thus,  the  chief  men,  the  milites, 
of  a  duchy  obtained  estates  subject  to  the  authority  of  the  duke; 
while  the  king  had  a  sort  of  fictitious  authority  over  the  duke  on 
the  ground  that  the  whole  territory  was  royal  property.  But 
"since  the  stability  of  power  held  to  territorial  wealth,  the  power 
of  the  gentlemen  over  their  subordinates  was  absolute,  that  of  the 
dukes  precarious,  and  that  of  the  kings  practically  m7.""  The 
chatelain  nobles  were  vassals  of  the  duke  and  vavasseurs  of  the 
king,  yet  they  were  practically  independent  on  their  estates. 
Their  pleasures  were  in  arms  and  the  chase.  They  were  strangers 
to  all  arts  and  luxuries;  and  their  castles,  though  impregnable,  were 
devoid  of  all  ornamentation.  The  next  in  order  below  the  nobles 
were  the  arimanni.  These  were  freemen,  probably  the  better  class 
of  the  old  inhabitants,  who  owned,  or  had  owned,  some  allodial 
land,  but  who  cultivated  some  of  the  land  of  the  seigneurs.  They 
occupied  an  inferior  position,  but  had  a  right  to  trial  in  the  courts. 
Below  these  were  the  masnada,  who  were  probably  the  rank  and 
file  of  the  Lombard  freemen  who  had  been  unable  to  secure  estates 
of  their  own.  Had  any  of  them  received  estates,  they  would 
have  been  obliged  to  surrender  them  to  some  powerful  neighbor 
and  receive  them  back  in  vassalage,  in  order  to  secure  protection. 
These  held  a  portion  of  the  seigneur's  land  by  military  tenure. 
If  their  holdings  were  of  importance,  they  must  have  had  slaves 
under  them;  otherwise,  they  could  not  have  cultivated  their  land 
and  at  the  same  time  have  rendered  the  constant  military  service 
demanded  of  them.  If  their  holdings  were  mere  garden-plots, 
they  may  have  been  able  to  devote  a  little  time  to  them,  while 

*  Villari,  The  Two  First  Centuries  of  Florentine  History,  II,  39,  40. 
«  Sismondi,  Histoire  des  ripubliques  italiennes,  I,  64. 


THE  ORGANIZATION  OF  AGRICULTURE  125 

doing  garrison  duty,  and  might  have  left  them  in  charge  of 
their  families  when  away  from  the  domain.  If  however,  as  is 
more  probable,  they  received  their  holdings  after  the  military 
operations  became  less  constant,  they  could  cultivate  their  own 
fields,  rendering  to  the  lord  occasional  mihtary  service  in  lieu  of 
labor  or  other  rent.  The  third  of  the  lower  classes  was  com- 
posed of  the  aldiani,  men  who  had  been  born  slaves  or  had  been 
reduced  to  that  level  when  Italy  was  conquered,  and  had  exchanged 
their  absolute  dependence  for  tenures  in  villeinage.  The  slaves 
formed  the  last  order  of  society.  Some  of  these  cultivated  their 
own  lands,  remitting  a  portion  of  the  products  of  their  labor  to 
the  seigneur;  others  were  in  absolute  dependence,  and  labored 
on  the  undivided  lands  of  the  estate.  But  the  condition  of  all 
slaves  was  better  than  it  had  been  under  the  Romans.  Many 
Lombard  laws  protected  them  from  unjust  or  very  severe  masters; 
and  though  these  laws  were  not  always  enforced,  they  indicate  a 
higher  standard  than  that  which  prevailed  among  the  Romans. 
Slaves  who  sought  the  church  were  assured  of  protection.  The 
Lombards  were  the  most  barbarous  of  all  the  Teutonic  invaders, 
and  did  little  to  advance  civilization;  but  the  fertile  fields  of  Italy 
and  the  subservience  of  the  remaining  population  of  the  conquered 
territory  gradually  modified  them,  and  they  settled  down  to  the 
care  of  their  estates.  Such  of  the  former  inhabitants  as  had  not 
fled  to  the  few  remaining  cities  became  cultivators  attached  to 
the  soil  to  which  they  gave  value.  The  Roman  methods  of  agri- 
culture were  carried  over  by  the  cultivators,  and  abundant  har- 
vests were  secured  much  earlier  than  was  possible  in  other  parts 
of  Europe.^ 

Here,  as  elsewhere,  the  barbarians  had  no  accumulated  capi- 
tal, no  commerce,  no  abihty  to  sustain  themselves  except  by  the 
produce  of  the  conquered  lands  then  cultivated  by  the  conquered 
population.  The  necessities  of  military  life  compelled  the  Lom- 
bards to  organize  their  military  power  on  the  basis  of  the  duchies  ;^ 

I  Cf.  Sismondi,  op.  cit.,  I,  60-75.  "L'esclavage  des  campagnes  romaines 
depeupla  I'ltalie  sous  les  empereurs:  l'esclavage  de  ces  mgmes  campagnes  ne  les 
emp^ha  pas  de  se  repeupler  sous  la  noblesse  feodale." — Ibid.,  75. 


126  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

but  the  immediate  authority  over  the  population  could  be  exer- 
cised only  by  the  seigneurs.  Ownership  of  land  and  sovereignty 
became  mixed  in  the  barbarian  mind;  and  since  real  political 
authority  could  be  maintained  only  on  the  land  controlled  by  the 
lord,  the  higher  political  organization  which  had  to  be  held  to- 
gether for  great  military  exigencies  was  regarded  as  based  on  a 
fictitious  ownership.  The  duke  could  exercise  actual  authority 
only  over  the  lands  directly  controlled  by  him.  Therefore,  he 
had  to  convey  the  rest  of  his  lands  to  lesser  chiefs,  in  the  hope 
that  the  latter  would  usually  render  him  some  service  when  he 
needed  help.  This  hope,  however,  was  seldom  realized,  except 
when  it  was  to  the  interest  of  the  vassal  to  co-operate  with  his 
duke.  If  a  duke  should  reduce  a  rebellious  vassal,  he  could  not 
permanently  hold  his  estate,  for  he  already  had  all  he  could  con- 
trol. If  he  gave  the  estate  to  another  vassal,  he  wbuld  be  no  more 
sure  of  fidelity  than  before.  The  dukedom  or  province  was  thus 
split  up  into  domains,  and  the  real  political  power  resided  only 
in  the  master  of  the  domain — where  the  economic  power  resided. 
Such  domains  as  were  too  small  to  stand  alone,  because  they 
could  not  support  a  force  that  was  able  to  defend  them  against 
ordinary  attacks,  were  gradually  absorbed  by  the  larger  neigh- 
boring domains,  first  as  dependent  but  still  maintaining  their 
integrity,  later  as  integral  parts  of  the  great  domain.  If  a  do- 
main proved  too  large  for  its  master  to  control  it  by  means  of  the 
very  crude  administrative  machinery  at  his  disposal,  he  was  obliged 
to  divide  it.  Few  domains  were  likely  to  be  too  large;  but  fre- 
quently a  lord  would  possess  several  domains.  If  these  were  too 
scattered  for  his  immediate  control  to  be  exercised,  he  was  com- 
pelled either  to  exchange  some  of  them  for  others  lying  more 
closely  together,  or  to  grant  those  farthest  from  his  main  domains 
to  some  other  lord.  In  any  case,  the  control  of  the  lord  was  of  a 
semi-political  character.  The  land  was  actually  in  the  hands  of 
the  only  people  who  knew  how  to  use  it — the  serfs,  some  of  whom 
may  have  been  the  former  masters.  The  dukes  differed  from  the 
other  nobles  only  in  having  larger  estates  and  therefore  a  greater 
command  of  resources  which  enabled  them  to  assert  their  power. 


THE  ORGANIZATION  OF  AGRICULTURE  127 

Charlemagne  attempted  to  bring  all  the  petty  units  into  one 
great  whole;  but  in  Italy,  as  elsewhere,  he  failed  to  accomplish 
his  purpose.  The  unity  for  which  Charlemagne  stood  could  not 
be  realized  until  further  progress  had  been  made  in  the  industrial 
life  of  these  httle  domains.  The  welfare  of  humanity  demanded 
the  division  of  Europe  into  petty  communities.  Charles  only 
succeeded  in  creating  a  new  nobility.  His  object  was  to  have  a 
personal  representative  of  the  crown  placed  over  each  minor 
division  of  the  empire.  These  representatives  were  his  counts. 
Except  on  the  borders  where  greater  power  was  needed  for  pro- 
tection, the  great  duchies,  thirty  in  number,  were  split  up  into 
many  counties;  and  by  the  time  of  Charles  le  Gros  there  were 
only  five  or  six  nobles  left  who  were  powerful  enough  to  dispute 
for  the  crown.  Yet  while  the  power  of  many  of  the  great  nobles 
w^  broken,  Charlemagne  did  not  succeed  in  establishing  the 
royal  power  through  his  counts.  These  counts,  though  appoint- 
ive ofl5cers,  soon  came  to  have  great  personal  power.  They  had 
been  put  in  possession  of  estates,  either  by  direct  gift  or  as  stewards 
of  royal  domains.  The  practice  of  allowing  a  son  to  succeed 
his  father  in  this  ofl5ce  soon  became  unavoidable,  because  the 
king  could  not  support  his  count  by  military  force,  except  on 
rare  occasions,  and  the  only  men  of  the  provinces  who  had  suf- 
ficient resources  to  maintain  themselves  as  counts  were  the  very 
ones  who  received  the  landed  power  from  the  king.  It  was  only 
as  a  man  was  a  great  seigneur  that  he  could  serve  as  count,  and 
the  lands  that  had  been  given  or  intrusted  to  a  count  by  Charle- 
magne were  pretty  sure  to  be  held  in  his  family.  When  a  vacancy 
occurred,  the  king  or  emperor  was  obliged  to  appoint  the  heir 
of  the  late  count,  or  undertake  to  put  in  a  new  count  by  force. 
Even  if  the  latter  course  could  have  been  pursued  by  the  decaying 
royal  power,  the  new  count  could  not  have  maintained  himself 
unless  he  had  been  put  in  possession  of  ample  domains.  If  this 
were  done,  the  new  count  would  be  in  the  same  position  as  the 
old  one,  and  would  exercise  authority  simply  as  the  most  power- 
ful seigneur  of  the  district.  No  standing  army  could  be  main- 
tained by  the  central  authority  to  enforce  its  claims,  because  the 


128  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

food  supply  was  not  sufficient  to  support  one,  nor  the  roads 
and  shipping  facilities  adequate  to  its  mobilization.  The  only 
organization  which  could  furnish  at  once  a  food  supply  and  a 
standing  army  was  the  domain.  No  central  power,  even  if  ex- 
ercised by  a  succession  of  Charlemagnes,  would  have  been  able 
to  provision  an  army,  except  on  the  rare  occasions  when  the  mass 
of  the  domanial  lords  might  find  it  to  their  interest  to  support  the 
central  power  against  a  common  foe.  Thus  the  attempt  to  or- 
ganize the  empire  in  such  a  way  as  to  keep  the  hands  of  the  em- 
peror upon  all  sections  at  the  same  time  resulted  only  in  putting 
counts  in  the  place  of  dukes.  The  political  power  was  left  still 
weaker  than  it  had  been  before,  and  was  brought  to  correspond 
more  completely  to  the  domanial  power.  The  hereditary  counts 
were  accepted  regularly  soon  after  the  death  of  Charlemagne, 
and  their  regular  succession  without  special  royal  confirmation 
was  legally  authorized  by  Conrad  the  Salian  in  the  early  part  of 
the  eleventh  century.  They  kept  alive  some  shadow  of  the  royal 
authority,  but  the  increased  disintegration  caused  by  the  Hun- 
garian and  Saracen  raids  of  the  ninth  and  tenth  centuries  com- 
pelled the  nobles  to  fortify  their  castles  more  strongly  and  to  make 
their  domains  more  entirely  self-sufficient.  The  real  authority 
of  the  counts  practically  disappeared.  The  feudal  system  was 
fully  established  in  all  parts  of  Italy  which  had  fallen  into  the 
hands  of  the  barbarians. 

England. — In  England  the  conditions  for  some  time  after  the 
Anglo-Saxon  conquest  were  similar  to  those  in  Italy.  The  country 
was  slowly  subdued,  but  no  organized  opposition  was  offered 
and  no  external  foe  threatened  the  newcomers.  It  was  unneces- 
sary for  them  to  establish  a  strong  form  of  government.  Be- 
cause they  were  not  compelled  by  external  pressure  to  form  such 
a  government,  they  did  not  attempt  to  do  so.  The  tendencies 
toward  separation  were  so  strong  that  they  could  not  do  so.  Yet 
a  military  organization  had  to  be  kept  up,  and  the  settlement  of 
all  classes  in  industrial  pursuits  was  indefinitely  delayed.  When 
the  British  were  subdued,  the  tribes  began  to  fight  among  them- 
selves.    As  in  Italy,  the  majority,  at  least,  of  the  common  freemen 


THE  ORGANIZATION  OF  AGRICULTURE  129 

had  to  be  kept  under  arms.  Economic  wants  were  supplied 
either  by  slaves  imported  from  Germany  or  by  the  ancient  inhabi- 
tants. The  same  causes  which  elsewhere  led  to  the  formation 
and  maintenance  of  an  organization  resembhng  the  comitatus 
were  operating  here.  The  fact  that  the  invasion  was  by  water 
did  not  change  the  general  condition  of  things.  When,  however, 
the  Normans  invaded  England,  the  stubborn  resistance  of  the 
English  and  the  constant  danger  of  uprisings  that  might  over- 
whelm the  comparatively  small  number  of  conquerors,  compelled 
the  Norman  barons,  powerful  and  unruly  though  they  often 
showed  themselves  to  be,  to  support  the  royal  authority  and  to 
subordinate  their  own  interests  to  it.  Not  until  the  time  of 
Stephen  could  the  nobles  afford  to  split  up  the  kingdom.  At 
that  time,  the  fear  that  the  Earl  of  Gloucester,  then  in  Normandy, 
might  espouse  the  cause  of  the  princess  and  invade  England, 
led  Stephen  to  make  concessions  from  the  royal  domains  to  the 
rebellious  nobles. 

The  English  agricultural  system  had  its  beginnings  far  back 
in  the  Celtic  and  even  pre-Celtic  tribal  communities.  The  com- 
munal methods  of  agriculture  did  not  differ  materially  from 
those  found  in  Germany  or  countries  where  the  people  were 
in  the  same  stage  of  culture.  The  earlier  Celtic  invaders  had 
doubtless  taken  little  part  in  the  cultivation  of  the  soil,  ex- 
ercising but  a  general  lordship  over  the  conquered  com- 
munities.^ But  later  the  invaders  seem  to  have  settled  down 
to  agricultural  life.  The  whole  population,  however,  retained 
semi-nomadic  habits,  except  in  the  southeast,  where  later  immi- 
grants from  the  country  of  the  Belgae  had  carried  many  of  the 
customs  of  Gaul.^  Most  of  the  tribes  would  migrate  frequently, 
whenever  their  lands  became  impoverished,  and  would  plough 
up  new  land.  Wherever  permanent  settlements  were  made,  the 
open-field  system  prevailed.  In  pre-Roman  Britain  this  open- 
field  system  may  have  been  a  one-field  system,  as  was  the  case  in 
those  parts  of  Germany  which  were  least  influenced  by  the  Ro- 

I  Gomme,  The  Village  Community,  70-72. 

'  Caesar,  B.  G.,  v,  12,  14;  Beddoe,  Races  of  Britain,  23,  42. 


130  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

mans.*  But  if  the  population  had  become  dense  enough  to  check 
migrations,  some  system  of  rotation  would  have  been  introduced 
in  time,  even  without  contact  with  Rome.  The  semi-nomadic 
habits  were  checked  by  the  Romans  even  in  those  sections  which 
were  least  directly  under  Roman  control.  From  the  time  of  the 
Roman  invasion  there  was  a  steady  improvement  in  agricultural 
methods,  the  most  important  change  being  the  introduction  of  a 
three-field  system  similar  to  that  found  in  those  parts  of  Ger- 
many which  bordered  on  the  Empire.  This  system  provided  for 
a  regular  rotation  of  crops,  wheat  being  raised  on  one  field,  oats, 
or  beans  on  another,  while  the  third  would  lie  fallow.  There 
was  no  more  ploughing-up  of  new  land  one  year,  which  would 
be  allowed  to  go  back  to  grass  as  soon  as  it  began  to  become 
impoverished.  In  neither  the  Welsh  nor  the  German  tribal  cultiva- 
tion was  this  three-course  rotation  found  until  the  beginning  of 
Roman  influence.  The  change  was  necessitated  both  by  the 
check  upon  nomadic  habits  and  by  the  increasing  demand  for  agri- 
cultural products  for  domestic  and  foreign  consumption.*  Whether 
the  Britons  and  the  Germans  learned  from  the  Romans  the  ad- 
vantage of  crop-rotation,  as  Seebohm  suggests,  or  were  forced, 
by  reason  of  their  more  stationary  life,  to  go  back  repeatedly  to 
fields  which  they  had  abandoned  until  experience  had  taught 
them  that  a  three-course  rotation  was  the  most  economical,  is 
a  point  which  can  not  be  definitely  decided.  Probably  both 
causes  were  operative.  As  in  Gaul,  the  Roman  conquest  put  an 
end  to  intertribal  wars,  and  made  possible  the  development  of 
trade  and  industry.  The  Roman  roads  likewise  promoted  these 
interests.  Exports  of  wheat,  minerals,  cattle,  and  slaves  be- 
came important;'  and  with  increased  demand  for  agricultural 
products  there  was,  of  course,  an  increased  stimulus  to  more 
intensive  cultivation. 

Aside  from  the  check  on  the  migratory  habits  of  the  Britons, 
the  introduction  of  rotation  of  crops,  the  importation  of  new 

'  Seebohm,  op.  cit.,  373,  410. 

«  Ibid.,  411-13.  417- 

3  Gibbins,  Industry  in  England,  31,  32. 


THE  ORGANIZATION  OF  AGRICULTURE  131 

plants,  and  the  benefits  of  the  Pax  Romana,  there  is  little  evidence 
that  the  Romans  had  much  influence  in  shaping  the  British  agri- 
cultural organization.^  Britain  was  very  different  from  most 
other  Roman  provinces.  The  country  was  more  like  a  military 
colony  than  a  completely  Romanized  province  such  as  Gaul. 
The  population  of  Italy,  especially  after  the  outbreak  of  Asiatic 
cholera  about  200  a.  d.,  was  decreasing,  and  a  sufficient  colonizing 
body  could  hardly  have  been  sent  from  Rome.  Gaul  might  have 
spared  some  colonists,  but  there  was  little  inducement  for  men 
to  go  from  that  province  to  Britain.  The  British  legions  were 
composed  of  all  nationalities,  and  could  have  had  little  influence 
in  agricultural  matters.'  Romans  were  no  more  inclined  to 
settle  in  a  country  with  the  climate  of  Britain  than  the  English  are 
now  inclined  to  settle  in  India,  The  land  offered  no  opportuni- 
ties for  making  great  wealth,  and  only  military  or  commercial  in- 
terests could  draw  Romans  to  it.  Those  who  came  for  the  latter 
reason  might  stimulate  all  industries  whose  products  they  took, 
but  they  could  scarcely  have  much  influence  in  directly  changing 
agricultural  methods.  Over  two  hundred  Roman  stations  are 
known  to  have  existed  in  Britain,  and  in  some  sections,  especially 
in  the  southern  part  of  the  island,  the  remains  of  many  Roman 
villas  have  been  found ;  but  there  is  no  evidence  that  the  Romans 
directly  organized  the  peculiar  agricultural  system  which  the 
Saxons  found  in  Britain.  Most  of  the  Roman  monuments  and 
inscriptions  refer  mainly  to  military  and  official  affairs.^  The 
great  roads  were  built  for  military  purposes.  In  general,  the 
long  Roman  occupation  was  military  and  commercial,  not  agri- 
cultural and  industrial,  and  its  direct  influences  could  hardly 
have  touched  any  but  the  higher  classes. 

The  Saxons,  on  the  other  hand,  invaded  Britain,  not  merely  as 
temporary  office-holders,  but  as  permanent  settlers.  They  spread 
over   the   whole   country  and   assumed  complete  possession  of 

«  Contra,  Ashley,  Introduction  to  translation  of  Coulanges'  Origin  of  Prop- 
erty, xxiv-xxvi. 

»  Andrews,  The  Old  English  Manor,  34,  35. 
3  Gibbins,  op.  cit.,  22,  26. 


132  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

everything  they  found.  They  were  a  wholly  barbarous  people, 
never,  probably,  having  come  in  contact  with  civilization  until 
they  landed  in  Britain.^  Coming  as  settlers,  however,  they 
were  not  mere  destroyers.  Much  destruction  doubtless  resulted 
from  the  invasions,  and  those  who  actively  resisted  the  new- 
comers, especially  among  the  higher  classes,  were  certainly  slain. 
But  the  opinion  so  long  held,^  that  the  original  inhabitants  were 
either  slain  or  driven  into  Wales  and  Scotland,  must  have  arisen 
from  too  unquestioned  acceptance  of  the  prejudiced  accounts  of 
ecclesiastical  writers  like  Bede  and  Gildas  who  could  see  nothing 
but  ruin  in  the  conquests  of  the  pagan  Saxons.^  The  destruc- 
tion of  the  rulers  and  landowners  was  not  inconsistent  with 
the  preservation  of  the  mass  of  the  peasants.  Indeed,  a  people 
which  had  never  engaged  in  industrial  pursuits  at  home,  but 
which  had  depended  upon  the  labor  of  women,  the  infirm,  and 
slaves,  would  be  very  anxious  to  preserve  a  large  body  of  those 
laborers  whose  continued  activity  would  satisfy  their  ordinary 
wants.  After  the  long  desultory  wars  which  laid  the  country 
desolate,  the  invaders  settled  down  to  enjoy  the  fruits  of  the  labors 
of  the  surviving  Britons. 

After  the  sanguinary  barbarians  had  secured  their  dominion  and  grati- 
fied their  revenge,  it  was  to  their  interest  to  preserve  the  peasants,  as  well  as 
the  cattle,  of  the  unresisting  country.  In  each  successive  revolution,  the 
patient  herd  becomes  the  property  of  its  new  masters;  and  the  salutary  com- 
pact of  food  and  labor  is  silently  ratified  by  their  mutual  necessities 

The  kingdom  of  Sussex,  which  spread  from  the  sea  to  the  Thames,  contained 
seven  thousand  families;  twelve  hundred  were  ascribed  to  the  Isle  of  Wight; 
and  if  we  multiply  this  vague  computation,  it  may  seem  probable  that  England 
was  cultivated  by  a  million  of  servants,  or  villeins,  who  were  attached  to 
the  estates  of  their  arbitrary  landlords.* 

'  Seebohm  's  theory  that  the  Anglo-Saxons  came  from  South  Germany,  where 
they  had  long  been  under  Roman  influence,  seems  incredible  to  me.  Not  only 
would  such  people  be  unlikely  to  become  navigators  so  quickly,  but  the  whole 
movement  of  the  tribes  in  that  section  was  in  the  opposite  direction.  Cf .  Andrews, 
op.  cU.,  32. 

"  E.  g.,  Stubbs,  Constituiional  History,  I,  chap.  iv. 

3  Pearson,  History  of  England,  I,  99-101;  Gibbins,  op.  cit.,  35. 

4  Gibbon,  Decline  and  Fall  (Millman  ed.),  Ill,  358. 


THE  ORGANIZATION  OF  AGRICULTURE  133 

The  outcome  of  the  invasion,  so  far  as  the  agricultural  organ- 
ization was  concerned,  was  that  the  peasants  became  a  class  of 
servile  dependents,  and  were  compelled  to  carry  on  their  old 
methods  of  cultivation  for  the  benefit  of  their  new  masters.  Since 
they  had  come  in  large  numbers  for  permanent  settlement,  the 
Saxons  brought  with  them  their  families  and  slaves.  The  latter 
could  not  have  been  very  numerous.  The  simple  conditions  of 
Teutonic  tribal  life  did  not  permit  of  an  extensive  slave  system, 
and  the  method  of  invasion  did  not  favor  a  wholesale  importa- 
tion of  slaves.  Yet  the  usual  method  of  employing  slaves  de- 
scribed by  Tacitus  was  doubtless  in  vogue  among  the  Saxons 
and  prepared  them  for  the  servile  system  which  finally  developed 
into  the  manor.  What  the  Britons  contributed  was  a  body  of 
trained  agriculturists  whose  three-course  rotation  of  crops  rep- 
resented a  marked  advance  in  efficiency  over  the  agricultural 
methods  which  had  prevailed  among  the  Saxons  in  north  Ger- 
many. There,  the  one-field  system  of  cultivation  had  been 
employed. 

This  original  population,  reduced  to  servitude  and  supple- 
mented by  the  slaves  brought  from  Germany,  constituted  the  in- 
dustrial class.  It  was  employed  at  the  only  industry  that  could 
then  be  of  material  importance  to  the  barbarians — the  production 
of  a  sufficient  supply  of  food.  It  must  be  remembered  that  the 
Saxons,  like  the  other  barbarian  invaders,  were  obliged  to  main- 
tain a  mihtary  organization,  since  each  tribe  had  to  defend  itself 
against  its  neighbors  and  all  were  obhged  to  carry  on  wars  for  a 
long  time  against  the  Britons  on  the  north  and  west.  This  meant 
that  the  Saxon  freeman  could  not  have  settled  down  to  industrial 
pursuits,  even  had  he  been  disposed  to  do  so.  Here,  as  elsewhere, 
the  demands  of  military  operations  tended  to  increase  the  power 
of  the  chieftain  and  to  depress  the  condition  of  the  common 
soldiers. 

Even  some  of  the  advocates  of  the  theory  of  a  continuance  of 
free  village  communities  composed  of  Germanic  tribesmen  recog- 
nize the  necessity  of  a  military  organization  at  the  time  of  the  in- 
vasions.    Kemble,  in  explaining  differences  in  rank  among  the 


134  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

freemen,  says:  "There  can  be  no  doubt  that  some  kind  of  mili- 
taiy  organization  preceded  the  peaceful  settlement,  and  in  many 
respects  determined  its  mode  and  character."^  This  statement 
agrees  with  the  argument  made  in  this  essay,  that  the  old  tribal 
organization  was  bound  to  give  way  to  something  like  a  perma- 
nent comitatus  when  migration  and  constant  warfare  rendered 
the  former  inefl&cient.  Earle  explains  the  presence  of  a  powerful 
captain  in  what  he  claims  to  be  a  free  village  community  in  the 
following  manner: 

Of  all  principles  of  military  regiment  there  is  none  so  necessary  or  so 
elementary  as  this,  that  all  men  must  be  under  a  captain,  and  such  a  captain 
as  is  able  to  command  prompt  and  willing  obedience.  Upon  this  military 
principle  I  conceive  the  English  settlements  were  originally  founded,  that 
each  several  settlement  was  under  a  military  leader,  and  that  this  military 
leader  was  the  ancestor  of  the  lord  of  the  manor.' 

Of  course,  such  a  military  organization  bears  little  resemblance 
to  a  village  community;  and  if  it  should  rontinue  for  any  con- 
siderable length  of  time — and  in  England  it  must  have  continued 
at  least  a  century — it  would  be  impossible  ever  again  to  return 
to  the  earlier  tribal  organization.  Indeed,  when  this  military 
leader  is  regarded  as  the  ancestor  of  the  lord  of  the  manor,  we 
have  an  admission  that  there  was  no  return  to  the  earher  type. 
In  the  old  tribal  organization  everything  was  governed  by  habits 
which  had  gradually  developed.  Many  of  the  tribal  customs 
could  not  possibly  stand  the  social  dislocation  to  which  they  were 
subjected  by  the  migrations.  A  strong  military  organization 
maintained  for  several  generations  must  inevitably  have  resulted 
in  the  development  of  habits  of  leadership,  on  the  one  hand,  and 
of  obedience,  on  the  other,  which  were  wholly  unknown  in  the 
tribal  community  in  Germany. 

It  may  well  be  doubted  whether  there  was,  at  first,  a  conscious- 
ness of  the  increased  power  of  the  individual  will  of  the  chieftain 
even  on  the  part  of  the  chieftain  himself.  Under  more  primitive 
conditions,  there  had  been  little  sense  of  individuality  on  the  part 

*  Saxons  in  England,  I,  125. 

•  Land  Charters,  55. 


THE  ORGANIZATION  OF  AGRICULTURE  135 

of  either  chief  or  tribesman.  The  political  unit  had  been  the 
community,  not  the  free  man.^  A  recognition  of  this  lack  of 
individual  freedom  in  tribal  life,  which  must  be  apparent  from 
the  most  casual  anthropological  observations,  would  have  saved 
a  great  deal  of  discussion  concerning  the  free  mark  and  its  place 
in  the  development  of  modem  institutions.  The  tribesman  is 
always  under  bondage  to  tribal  customs  and  institutions;  and 
although  his  chief  may  sometimes  be  chosen  by  election  instead 
of  by  lot — ^both  of  which  practices  were  found  among  the  Ger- 
man tribes — the  tribesman  does  not  dream  of  asserting  his  in- 
dividual wiU  or  of  claiming  an  individual  share  in  communal 
property.  Nor  does  the  chief,  though  exercising  considerable 
authority,  regard  himself  in  any  other  light  than  as  bound  by 
tribal  custom.  And  yet,  whenever  a  chief  holds  power  for  a 
great  length  of  time,  he  is  likely  to  begin  to  lay  plans  to  hold  the 
office  permanently.  This  is  especially  true  when  the  chief  must 
take  an  individual  initiative  because  the  old  tribal  customs  no 
longer  meet  the  emergency.  Now,  although  there  was  undoubt- 
edly a  growing  ambition  among  the  German  leaders,  there  is 
no  reason  to  believe  that  they  regarded  appropriated  lands  as 
their  exclusive  and  private  property,  or  that  their  followers  as- 
pired to  individual  ownership  of  any  part  of  the  conquered  lands." 
The  leaders  regarded  themselves  as  protectors  of  the  companies 
under  them,  and  the  latter  looked  to  their  leaders  for  direction 
in  military  affairs  and  provision  for  bodily  wants.  It  was  only 
a  step  for  the  leaders  who  assumed  this  position  to  become  the 
strong,  self-willed  feudal  lords  of  the  Middle  Ages,  and  the  ex- 
ercise of  their  new  powers  was  bound  to  bring  their  individuality 
to  consciousness;  but  it  does  not  follow  that  the  ordinary  freeman 
became  restive  and  dissatisfied  under  this  arrangement.  It  is 
a  great  historical  fallacy  to  read  back  into  the  consciousness  of 
the  invading  tribesman  the  democratic  sentiments  of  the  nine- 
teenth century.     There  is  no  evidence  that  the  rank  and  file  of 

I  Contra,  Gibbins,  op.  cit.,  61,  and  many  other  writers. 

'  Those  who  had  become  proprietors  of  heims  on  the  Roman  frontier  attained 
their  position  before  the  invasions  and  are  not  to  be  regarded  £is  the  product  of 
the  new  miUtary  relationship. 


136  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

the  invaders  ever  demanded  or  received  estates  of  their  own. 
Whether  free  tenants  or  serfs,  they  held  under  the  chiefs  who 
led  them  to  victory.  The  chief  of  each  clan  or  kindred  group 
assumed  possession  of  some  convenient  area  of  conquered  land, 
probably  corresponding  exactly  to  some  existing  domain  or  group 
of  domains.  The  tribal  chief  retained  his  less  direct  leadership  of 
the  group  of  clans,  assuming  control  of  any  public  lands  that 
might  be  in  the  district  and  appropriating  private  manors,  if 
these  were  needed  for  the  maintenance  of  the  men  directly  under 
him.  The  chief  of  the  clan  would  thus  become  a  manorial  lord, 
and  the  tribal  chief  would  become  a  petty  king  as  well  as  a  manorial 
lord.^ 

The  manner  in  which  the  free  tribesmen  were  settled  is  one 
of  the  disputed  points  of  history.  It  is  sometimes  charged  that 
such  writers  as  Seebohm  omit  this  body  of  free  tribesmen  alto- 
gether, simply  assuming  that  the  invaders  distributed  themselves 
over  the  manors  of  the  conquered  lands  and  took  control  of 
the  servile  population  already  found  there.'  There  may  be 
some  justice  in  the  charge;  and  yet,  while  writers  of  this  school 
have  failed  to  give  a  specific  account  of  the  disappearance  of  the 
free  tribesmen,  their  general  position  is  not  inconsistent  with 
the  existence  of  that  class  at  the  time  of  the  conquests  and  their 
distribution  on  the  manors.  Nevertheless,  the  impression  is  left 
that  the  number  of  invaders  was  inconsiderable;  and  one  of 
Seebohm's  critics  justly  asks:  "Can  it  really  be  true  that  the 
great  bulk  of  free  men  was  originally  in  territorial  subjection, 
or  rather  that  there  never  was  such  a  thing  as  a  great  number  of 
free  men  of  German  blood,  and  that  the  German  conquest  intro- 
duced only  a  cluster  of  privileged  people  which  merged  into  the 
habits  and  rights  of  Roman  possessors  P"^ 

There  is  every  reason  to  believe  that  the  number  of  invaders 
was  far  from  inconsiderable.  The  traditions  of  the  old  chroni- 
clers, the  requirements  for  the  subjugation  of  the  natives,  and 

I  Andrews,  op.  cit.,  50,  51. 

»  lUd.,  58;   Gibbins,  op.  cit.,  60. 

3  Vinogradoff,  Villainage  in  England,  34. 


THE  ORGANIZATION  OF  AGRICULTURE  137 

the  fact  that  the  language  of  the  invaders  almost  wholly  displaced 
that  of  the  vanquished,  all  justify  the  assumption  that  the  Saxon 
tribes  had  entered  the  country  in  great  force.  The  free  tribes- 
men did  not  become  lords  of  manors,  unless  in  a  few  isolated 
cases.  There  were  about  9,250  manors  in  1086;  and  although 
many  changes  had  doubtless  taken  place  since  the  Saxon  con- 
quest, the  number  at  the  time  of  the  first  distribution  can  not 
have  been  greatly  in  excess  of  that  number.  It  may  have  been 
less.  A  part  of  the  region  covered  by  Domesday  was  not  occupied 
by  the  Saxons  until  long  after  their  first  arrival.  The  evidence 
of  the  long  continuance  of  the  open-field  strips  and  the  village 
settlements  precludes  any  hypothesis  of  a  material  subdivision 
of  the  manors  found  by  the  Saxons  and  afterward  appropriated 
by  the  Normans.^  There  was  evidently,  then,  no  possibility 
of  a  division  of  the  land  which  would  give  every  free  tribesman  a 
freehold  to  be  cultivated  by  himself  or  by  his  slaves.  While  the 
opponents  of  the  free-village  theory  may  have  failed  to  account 
for  the  settlement  of  the  tribesmen,  it  can  hardly  be  said  that 
they  have  claimed  that  all  of  the  invaders  became  lords  of  manors. 
If  their  position  implies  such  a  claim,  it  is  manifestly  absurd. 
There  must  have  been  many  more  than  9,000  men  in  the  invading 
tribes,  though  there  were  only  about  that  many  who  were  of  suf- 
ficient importance  to  become  lords  of  manors.  Indeed,  it  may 
be  doubted  whether  a  different  lord  was  placed  on  each  of  the 
9,000  manors,  though  there  were  doubtless  fewer  who  held  sev- 
eral manors  than  after  the  Norman  redistribution. 

The  position  most  completely  opposed  to  the  one  just  dis- 
cussed is  that  the  tribesmen  settled  in  free  village  communities 
and  preserved  a  communal  organization  until  about  the  time  of 
the  Norman  Conquest.  Beginning  with  Kemble  and  von  Mau- 
rer,  the  free-mark  theory  has  been  persistently  upheld  by  many 
able  scholars  both  in  England  and  on  the  Continent.  It  may  safely 
be  said  that  this  theory,  at  least  as  applied  to  England,  France, 
and  Italy,  can  not  be  held  today.  It  may  be  untrue  that  the  bulk 
of  the  population  of  the  conquered  regions  was  made  up  of  the 

»  Seebohm,  op.  cit.,  109,  178,  179. 


138  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

former  inhabitants  reduced  to  slavery,  but  it  is  also  impossible 
to  hold  that  former  populations  were  wiped  out  and  that  com- 
pletely communal  settlements  were  made  by  the  victorious  tribes.* 

The  chief  reason  for  holding  that  the  tribesmen  did  not  settle 
down  at  once  as  agricultural  laborers  in  village  communities  has 
already  been  suggested.  They  were  needed  as  a  sort  of  a  stand- 
ing army.  Only  by  keeping  up  a  military  organization  could 
any  group  maintain  itself  against  its  neighbors  and  carry  for- 
ward such  offensive  operations  against  the  Britons  as  might  be 
necessary.  A  non-slave-holding  community  must  have  perished 
under  such  circumstances.  It  was  necessary  to  maintain  an  or- 
ganization similar  to  that  which  had  prevailed  in  Germany,  where 
the  freeman  did  almost  no  labor,  while  the  nature  of  the  chief- 
tainship kept  the  band  together  more  permanently  than  was 
possible   in   more   primitive   times. 

Nor  is  it  at  all  hkely  that  the  tribesmen  would  have  been  willing 
to  settle  down  to  agricultural  pursuits,  even  if  they  had  not  been 
required  for  military  purposes.  As  already  stated,  the  simple 
labors  of  the  barbarian  tribes  were  carried  on  by  women  and 
slaves,  the  freemen  seldom  or  never  engaging  in  industrial  pur- 
suits. These  men,  already  familiar  with  servile  labor  and  secur- 
ing a  sufficient  supply  of  laborers  from  among  the  conquered 
populations,  finding  ample  scope  for  military  operations  and  hav- 
ing their  fondness  for  war  increased  rather  than  diminished  by 
recent  experiences,  would  be  little  likely  to  settle  down  in  agri- 
cultural communities  unless  they  could  have  slaves  under  them. 
This  last  was  an  impossibihty  under  the  conditions  existing  in 
the  conquered  countries.  Wherever  the  Aryans  have  gone, 
they  have  shown  the  same  disposition  to  maintain  their  warlike 
habits  and  the  same  indisposition  to  engage  in  industrial  pur- 

» It  does  not  seem  desirable  to  review  in  full  the  arguments  by  which  the 
opposing  schools  have  sought  to  uphold  their  theories.  Excellent  summaries  of 
the  course  of  the  discussion  are  given  in  the  following  authorities:  VinogradofiF, 
ViUainage  in  England,  1-39;  Ashley,  "The  Beginnings  of  Town  Life  in  the 
Middle  Ages,"  Quarterly  Journal  0}  Economics,  X  (July,  1896),  359-406;  Pirenne, 
"L'origine  des  constitutions  urbaines  au  moyen  4ge,"  Revue  historique,  LIU 
(September,  1893),  52-83. 


THE  ORGANIZATION  OF  AGRICULTURE  139 

suits  so  long  as  they  could  compel  conquered  peoples  to  support 
them.  All  of  the  advantages  of  the  culture  of  the  conquered 
peoples  have  been  accepted,  and  an  overlordship  assumed  "which 
the  older  races  had  never  tolerated  as  a  development  from  their 
own  institutions."  This  had  been  true  of  the  Celts  who  had 
preceded  the  Teutons,  and  it  was  now  true  of  the  latter  wherever 
we  can  find  any  trace  of  their  methods.  Only  later  could  the 
conquerors  be  reduced  to  the  necessity  of  working  for  themselves. 
Says  a  student  of  Aryan  life: 

Distinct  from  the  comitatus  or  military  retainers,  and  yet  essential  to  the 
existence  of  that  body,  was  the  despised  and  non-combatant  class  which 
performed  the  humble  duty  of  cultivating  the  warrior's  fields.  It  may  be 
stated,  generally,  that  this  class  was  composed  of  men  outside  of  the  kin, 
although  dependent  upon  it  or  upon  some  of  its  members,  and  that  it  was 
derived  from  a  conquered  and  aKen  race.  In  most  of  the  countries  whither 
the  Aryan  nations  wandered,  they  appear  to  have  foxmd  hostile  populations 
of  a  race  different  from  their  own.  Similar  troubles  awaited  them  when 
they  journeyed  east  and  west.  So  far  as  their  history  is  known  they  always 
conquered,  and  either  absorbed  or  enslaved  their  opponents.* 

This  indisposition  to  labor  was  intensified  by  the  fact  that  the 
labor  of  the  subject  population  could  supply  the  needs  of  the 
barbarians  more  bountifully  than  they  had  ever  been  supplied 
before. 

Accordingly  it  was  not  until  the  land  had  been  occupied  for 
some  time  that  the  tribesmen  began  to  take  their  place  in  the 
industrial  ranks.  The  permanent  settlement  of  the  clans,  after 
the  conquests  were  wholly  accomplished  and  intertribal  wars 
had  become  less  frequent,  did  away  with  the  need  of  a  standing 
army.  A  nucleus  had  to  be  maintained  for  garrison  duty;  but 
the  greater  part  of  the  Saxon  freemen  could  well  be  spared  for 
agricultural  labor.  Together  with  this  release  from  constant 
mihtary  service,  came  a  demand  for  increased  agricultural  pro- 
ductivity because  of  the  increase  of  the  population  and  the 
demand  for  greater  comfort.  It  therefore  became  desirable  that 
the  tribesmen  should  become  agriculturists.  But  the  process  of 
transformation  was  a  slow  one.  By  the  end  of  the  seventh  cen- 
I  Heam,  The  Aryan  Household, 


140  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

• 

tury,  it  was  still  difficult  to  induce  the  freemen  to  take  their  places 
beside  the  servile  population  in  industrial  activities,  and  King 
Ine  made  special  efforts  to  get  them  to  do  so.^  His  interest  in 
agriculture  is  evidence  of  the  fact  that  the  demand  for  food  was 
being  met  with  greater  difficulty  than  formerly. 

The  settlement  of  free  tenants  on  the  domains  could  be  easily 
accomplished  without  interfering  with  servile  tenures;  for  there 
were  many  vacant  strips  in  the  fields  after  the  ravages  of  the  inva- 
sions, and  there  was  always  ample  room  for  the  extension  of  arable 
lands  by  clearing  the  forests  and  redeeming  the  waste  which  sur- 
rounded every  settlement.  The  position  of  the  freemen,  when 
they  first  became  agriculturists,  must  have  been  much  superior 
to  that  of  the  other  cultivators.  The  nature  of  their  services 
can  not  be  definitely  stated ;  for  the  earliest  records — ^f or  example, 
the  Saxon  version  of  the  Rectitudines  singularum  personarum — 
belong  to  a  period  when  the  freemen  had  dropped  to  a  completely 
servile  condition.  The  many  cases  of  free  tenure  cited  by  Vino- 
gradoff'  belong  to  a  much  later  period,  after  the  Norman  inva- 
sion, when  a  great  many  servile  tenures  were  in  process  of  being 
freed  from  former  obhgations,  rents  being  accepted  in  lieu  of 
services;  and  have  nothing  to  do  with  the  tenures  of  freemen 
which,  three  or  four  centuries  earlier,  were  becoming  servile.  In 
all  probabihty,  the  holdings  were  intended  to  be  by  mihtary  tenure 
with,  perhaps,  some  shght  rent  in  kind  or  labor  during  the  busiest 
seasons  added  to  the  mihtary  duties.  The  fact  that  the  so-called 
free  tenures  were  on  the  demesne  lands  indicates  that  freemen 
were  induced  to  cultivate  lands  for  which  there  were  no  other 
available  laborers.  If  the  portions  of  the  demesne  thus  culti- 
vated were  scattered  strips  in  the  open  fields,  the  freemen  were 
doubtless  set  to  work  there  because  the  servile  cultivators  were 
too  few  to  cover  the  whole  groimd,  either  because  some  servile 
tenures  had  become  vacant  or  because  new  strips  were  added 
from  the  waste.  Whatever  the  particular  methods  by  which 
the  tribesmen  were  induced  to  become  agriculturists,  it  was  in- 

I  Chronicon  monasterii  de  Abingdon,  Vol.  II,  chaps,  xiv,  xv. 
»  Villainage,  166-72,  325-28,  etc. 


THE  ORGANIZATION  OF  AGRICULTURE  141 

evitable  that  such  a  change  in  their  occupations  should  take  place. 
When  the  lord  came  to  appreciate  the  value  of  an  increased  pro- 
duction from  his  estate,  as  he  did  when  the  population  increased 
or  when  his  own  advance  in  civilization  increased  his  desire  for 
things  which  could  be  secured  in  exchange  for  the  agricultural 
surplus,  and  when  he  no  longer  found  it  necessary  to  keep 
the  whole  body  of  his  followers  constantly  under  arms,  he  was 
bound  to  find  some  means  by  which  he  could  turn  his  men  to 
productive  activity. 

Now,  although  the  tribesmen  must  have  occupied  a  superior 
position  on  the  domains  when  they  first  began  to  assist  in  their 
cultivation,  it  was  impossible  for  them  to  remain  permanently 
above  the  mass  of  the  tenants.  The  methods  of  agriculture  were 
those  which  had  been  developed  by  the  old  inhabitants  of  the 
country.  These  had  to  be  adopted  by  the  free  tenants  who  were 
engaging  in  the  industry.  The  latter  had  to  work  side  by  side 
with  the  ser\ale  tenants.  The  open-field  system  rendered  any 
separation  of  the  laborers  impossible.  The  Saxon  conquerors 
had  been  unable  to  introduce  any  new  system  of  agriculture,  or 
even  to  control  the  system  they  found.  They  could  compel  the 
agriculturists  to  keep  steadily  at  work  in  the  fields,  but  they  were 
unable  to  direct  them  in  the  employment  of  methods.  There- 
fore, the  latter  had  to  be  left  in  the  hands  of  the  servile  popula- 
tion. In  England,  as  elsewhere,  the  slaves  who  were  found  on 
the  lord's  inland  could  be  retained  only  for  certain  personal  duties, 
such  as  the  care  of  the  lord's  stock  and  the  performance  of  a  few 
menial  household  services.  The  land  of  the  demesne  was  culti- 
vated by  servile  tenants.  So,  whether  the  freemen  received 
holdings  on  the  reserved  portion  of  the  estate  or  in  the  open  fields, 
they  had  to  work  in  common  with  the  servile  tenants  and  had  to 
conform  to  the  methods  which  already  prevailed.  While,  at  first, 
a  distinction  would  be  made  in  the  character  of  the  service  to  be 
rendered  to  the  lord,  that  of  the  freemen  being  chiefly  in  the  form 
of  military  service,  the  growing  interest  which  the  free  tenant 
was  bound  to  develop  in  his  holding  must,  in  the  course  of  time, 
have  rendered  mihtary  duties  more  and  more  irksome,  and  have 


142  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN^CIVILIZATION 

prepared  the  more  settled  clansman  for  the  substitution  of  agri- 
cultural labor  on  the  lord's  demesne  when  the  miHtary  duties  were 
no  longer  needed.  The  economic  condition  of  the  free  tenants 
and  the  serfs  necessarily  became  the  same,  and  the  power  of  the 
lord  over  his  tenants  enabled  him  to  hold  them  to  the  duties  which 
were  most  profitable  to  him.  With  the  demand  for  agricultural 
laborers  constantly  increasing,  it  was  not  to  be  expected  that  the 
lords  would  allow  any  of  their  men  to  leave  the  domains.  Indeed, 
it  could  seldom  happen  that  even  a  freeman  would  think  of 
leaving  the  domain  to  which  he  was  attached,  any  more  than 
he  would  formerly  have  thought  of  detaching  himself  from  the 
clan  to  which  he  belonged.  The  Teutonic  freeman  had  never 
been  mobile,  and  it  was  not  Ukely  that  he  would  resist  the  tend- 
encies that  were  leading  to  his  permanent  attachment  to  the 
manor  which  had  taken  the  place  of  the  clan.  The  ascendency 
of  the  miUtary  leader  at  the  time  of  the  invasions  enabled  him  to 
exercise  complete  jurisdictional  authority  over  the  group  of  men 
who  settled  on  his  estate.  This  power,  together  with  the  concep- 
tion of  property  rights  which  had  come  with  the  continuance  of 
his  position,  gave  him  almost  absolute  authority  over  his  follow- 
ers; for  the  latter  lost  the  feeling  of  approximate  equality  with 
their  chief,  had  never  possessed  any  conception  of  property  for 
every  individual,  and  were  reduced  by  economic  conditions  to  the 
powerless  position  occupied  by  the  conquered  population.  Thus 
the  manorial  and  feudal  lordship  was  set  over  against  the  indus- 
trial community  into  which  many  elements  had  entered,  but 
which  had  become  a  practically  homogeneous  whole.* 

At  all  events,  by  the  time  of  the  Domesday  survey  the  free- 
men had  disappeared  from  the  domains,  except  in  the  Danish 
districts  where  the  lateness  of  the  conquests  and  the  precarious 
position  of  the  lords  had  prevented  the  economic  tendency  from 
working  out  the  perfect  manorial  system.  These  sochmanni  or 
liheri  homines  of  the  Danish  sections  numbered  about  35,000  in 
1086,  and  while  occupying  much  the  same  position  as  the  ordinary 
villeins,  they  were  usually  free  from  work  on  the  lord's  demesne, 

»  Cf.  Andrews,  op.  cit.,  81. 


THE  ORGANIZATION  OF  AGRICULTURE  143 

but  were  subject  to  military  service.  They  could  not  sell  their 
lands,  nor  leave  without  their  lord's  consent.  Probably  the 
Danish  chiefs  had  seized  the  manors  of  eastern  England,  and 
had  put  their  followers  in  the  place  of  Saxon  villeins  who  had  been 
killed  or  driven  ofiF;  but  the  new  agriculturists  were  not  wilhng  to 
submit  to  such  hard  terms  as  had  been  exacted  of  their  prede- 
cessors.^ Possibly,  also,  some  of  the  men  enumerated  under 
these  heads  in  Domesday  were  men  brought  over  by  the  Con- 
queror. These  men  were  not  numerous,  but  they  received  special 
protection  from  the  king,  and  were  kept  from  falling  into  the 
servile  condition  of  the  Saxon  villeins.^  The  important  thing 
to  notice  is  that  the  free  tenants  were  superimposed  upon  the 
servile  community  and  tended  to  become  assimilated  with  the 
latter.  The  same  phenomenon  was  undoubtedly  found  during 
the  earlier  Saxon  period.  It  shows  the  tendency  of  the  economic 
condition  to  determine  the  social  status. 

The  description  of  the  agricultural  organization  at  the  time  of 
the  Norman  invasion  may  be  made  very  brief;  for  on  this  point 
there  is  Httle  difference  of  opinion,  and  many  detailed  descrip- 
tions have  been  given  by  writers  of  social  history.  The  estate 
resembled  the  Roman  villa  in  many  respects.  The  lord  possessed 
certain  demesne  lands,  part  of  which  were  located  directly  about 
his  residence  and  part  scattered  in  strips  amongst  the  strips  of 
the  tenants.  These  lands  were  cultivated  by  the  holders  of  the 
strips,  and  the  labor  of  the  serfs  on  the  lord's  lands  was  the  chief 
rental  for  their  own  holdings.  Of  these  cultivators  there  were 
two  main  classes:  the  villani,  of  whom  there  were  about  108,500 
in  1086,  whose  holdings  amounted  to  about  thirty  acres  on  the 
average,  scattered  in  half-acre  strips  over  the  common  fields, 
and  who  owed  the  lord  two  or  three  days'  work  a  week,  a  certain 
number  of  extra  days  during  the  busiest  seasons  or  when  the  lord 
might  demand  them,  and  small  quarterly  payments  in  kind  or 
money;    the  bordarii,  of  whom  there  were  about  88,000  in  1086, 

I  Ashley,  An  Introduction  to  English  Economic  History  and  Theory,  I,  17-19; 
Seebohm,  op.  cit.,  87-89. 

"  Statutes  of  William  in  Annals  of  Roger  de  Hoveden  (Riley  ed.),  I,  538,  539. 


144  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

whose  holdings  averaged  five  acres  scattered  like  the  holdings  of 
the  villeins  proper,  and  who  owed  the  lord  one  day's  work  each 
week  and  a  few  extra  days  at  harvest  time.  Where  the  so-called 
free  tenants  were  found,  they  possessed  holdings  and  owed  ser- 
vices corresponding  in  general  to  those  of  the  villeins  proper.  On 
the  demesne  lands  there  were  sometimes  a  few  personal  slaves 
whose  duties  have  already  been  mentioned.  Sometimes  the 
holding  of  a  villein  was  divided,  presumably  among  his  children, 
when  each  section  owed  its  proportion  of  service  to  the  lord. 
Occasionally,  two  such  tenures  might  be  united  under  one  villein, 
probably  by  marriage.  The  bordars,  including  the  cottars  who 
were  practically  of  the  same  class,  were  probably  either  younger 
sons  of  the  regular  villeins  who  belonged  to  the  estate,  or  wan- 
derers who  had  been  induced  to  settle  there.  Their  presence 
may  be  explained  by  the  desire  of  the  lord  to  secure  as  many 
laborers  as  possible.  This  was  not  always  easily  done.  The 
lord  was  constantly  having  difiiculty  in  finding  enough  laborers 
to  cultivate  the  demesne  profitably,  and  the  bordars,  not  having 
enough  land  to  support  them,  were  very  willing  to  hire  out  for 
wages  in  money  or  supplies. 

The  supervision  of  the  work  of  the  manor,  the  preservation  of 
order,  the  care  of  products,  the  management  of  the  mill  and  oven, 
and  all  similar  work  not  directly  agricultural,  were  performed  by 
men  drawn  from  the  villein  cultivators.  Sometimes  these  officers 
and  servants  were  compensated  by  being  relieved  of  the  duty  of 
working  the  lord's  land;  sometimes  they  received  a  share  of  the 
profits  connected  with  their  duties.  The  ministerial  class  was 
always  servile,  even  when  freemen  were  found  on  the  domain. 
These  officers  came  to  have  special  privileges,  and  sometimes 
claimed  their  offices  as  a  hereditary  right. 

The  method  of  cultivation  on  the  strips  of  the  villeins  was 
doubtless  one  of  joint  labor,  each  laborer  contributing  oxen  and 
time  in  proportion  to  his  holdings.  Probably  only  a  few  of  the 
villeins  of  a  given  manor  would  co-operate  on  a  given  portion  of 
the  open  fields.  This  division  of  the  whole  body  into  companies 
would  be  most  convenient,  since  the  distribution  of  the  half -acre 


THE  ORGANIZATION  OF  AGRICULTURE  145 

strips  among  the  tenants  usually  followed  a  regular  order  and 
the  holdings  of  certain  groups  of  the  villeins  nearly  always  lay 
together.  The  three-course  rotation  of  crops  was  almost  invari- 
ably followed.  The  general  features  of  the  manor  were  those  of 
the  Roman  villa,  but  personal  slavery  could  not  be  maintained, 
and  the  cultivation  on  rental  was  always  practiced.^ 

The  first  effect  of  the  Norman  Conquest  was  a  legal  degrada- 
tion of  the  villeins.  The  feudal  system  was  more  highly  devel- 
oped among  the  Normans,  and  the  more  definite  conception  of 
\'illeinage  held  by  them  was  naturally  carried  over  to  England. 
The  slaves  entirely  disappeared  and  the  sochmen  fell  to  the  posi- 
tion of  the  other  tenants.  The  attitude  of  the  Norman  lords  to 
the  conquered  population,  especially  since  frequent  rebellions 
served  to  keep  up  animosities,  was  not  likely  to  improve  the  con- 
dition of  the  servile  class,  except  as  their  more  advanced  feudal 
institutions  might  have  such  an  effect.  And  yet  the  claim  of 
Vinogradoff,'  that  the  freedom  of  the  serfs  was  much  greater  in 
Saxon  than  in  Norman  times,  is  scarcely  justified  by  the  evidence 
he  produces.  The  free  village  community  had  not  existed  in 
the  beginning;  the  earlier  Saxon  serfdom  was  working  itself  out 
toward  a  higher  form  of  tenure — an  advance  which  was  not 
checked  by  the  throwing  of  the  Saxon  freemen  themselves  into 
serfdom;  and  this  advance  toward  freedom  was  assisted  by  the 
conditions  which  prevailed  after  the  conquest.  The  more  settled 
government  and  the  established  order,  with  which  the  Saxons 
had  never  been  familiar;  the  increase  of  commerce  through  the 
connection  with  Flanders  and  Normandy;  and  the  tendency  to 
create  vast  estates  by  the  amalgamation  of  many  smaller  ones 
under  a  single  lord,  contributed  to  bring  about  a  greater  freedom 
to  the  industrial  classes  than  any  new   legal   definitions    could 

I  The  oldest  sketches  that  give  a  connected  view  of  manorial  life  are  found 
in  the  Rectitudines  singularum  personarum  of  the  tenth  century,  but  particular 
features  are  revealed  in  numerous  remains  of  the  earlier  Saxon  period.  For  a 
detailed  account  of  the  manorial  organization  and  methods  of  agriculture,  "ifide 
Seebohm,  op.  cit.,  84-97,  129-42;  Ashley,  op.  cit.,  I,  chap,  i;  Andrews,  op.  cit., 
97-145- 

a  Op.  cit.,  132-36. 


146  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

counterbalance.  The  Conquest  hastened  the  development  of 
feudalism  that  was  already  going  on  in  England;  but  the  strong 
monarchy  prevented  many  of  the  disruptive  tendencies  of  feudal- 
ism that  were  found  on  the  Continent.  The  Norman  aristocracy, 
because  of  race  antagonisms,  was  compelled  to  act  as  a  class 
instead  of  a  mere  collection  of  individuals.^  William  was  able  to 
carry  on  on  a  small  scale  what  Charlemagne  had  attempted.  Only 
the  slowness  of  the  development  of  manufactures  prevented 
England  from  developing  much  more  rapidly  than  any  other 
country  toward  the  ideal  condition  we  have  considered.  The 
complete  interdependence  of  men  in  society  could  not  be 
brought  about  while  they  were  engaged  almost  exclusively  in 
agricultural  pursuits.  But  manufactures  could  not  be  developed 
as  quickly  as  they  were  on  the  Continent,  because  the  old  pro- 
cesses were  entirely  lost.  Until  artisans  who  could  bring  back 
some  of  the  lost  arts  of  the  ancients  could  be  secured,  England's 
industrial  development  had  to  be  very  slow.  But  the  agricul- 
tural organization  was  being  perfected,  and  the  basis  was  being 
laid  for  future  industrial  greatness. 

The  formation  of  the  greater  domains,  or  the  union  of  several 
domains  under  one  lord,  made  it  less  possible  to  maintain  a  close 
supervision  over  the  villeins.  The  lords  came  to  exercise  a  con- 
trol that  was  chiefly  political,  the  production  of  the  required 
economic  results  being  left  wholly  to  the  serfs.  "The  more 
powerful  the  manor  became,  the  less  possible  was  it  to  work  out 
subjection  on  the  lines  of  personal  slavery."*  Personal  slavery 
disappeared,  and  the  serfs  came  to  enjoy  greater  and  greater  free- 
dom. Legal  freedom  was  not  possible,  nor  was  it  desired  by  the 
serfs.  The  lord  was  interested  in  the  returns,  and  cared  Uttle 
about  the  social  status  of  his  serfs,  provided  they  did  not  leave  the 
domain.  Stress  was  laid  on  the  terms  of  the  particular  tenures, 
not  on  the  status  of  the  particular  tenants;  more  on  economical 
conditions  than  on  legal  distinctions.  ^     The  interest  of  the  lords 

»  Vinogradofif,  op.  cit.,  179-81. 
»  Ibid.,  132. 
3  Ibid.,  144. 


THE  ORGANIZATION  OF  AGRICULTURE  147 

was  in  the  results,  and  the  methods  were  left  in  the  hands  of 
the  serfs.  This  tendency  was  marked  even  before  the  Conquest ; 
the  formation  of  greater  estates  simply  accelerated  the  movement. 

Another  result  of  the  Conquest  was  the  momentum  given  to 
the  tendency  to  commute  labor  rents  and  rents  in  kind  for  money 
rents.  To  a  limited  extent  this  practice  had  been  carried  on  by 
the  Saxons.  Under  the  Normans  it  was  extended.  The  greater 
number  of  domains  under  a  single  lord,  often  widely  scattered 
by  the  policy  of  WiUiam,  made  money  more  convenient  than 
produce;  and  the  enlarged  commercial  relations  created  a  greater 
general  demand  for  money.  The  latter  were  still  almost  insig- 
nificant; but  intercourse  with  Normandy  made  possible  the  ex- 
change of  EngHsh  wool  and  a  few  other  raw  commodities  for 
the  manufactured  products  which  were  already  being  consumed 
by  the  Norman  nobihty.  Money  is  needed  only  when  com- 
mercial relations  create  an  economic  commimity  too  large  to 
permit  barter  to  continue.  Again,  the  political  organization 
helped  the  economic  tendency;  for  the  king  demanded  taxes  in 
money,  and  inaugurated  a  fiscal  policy  which  did  much  to  under- 
mine feudahsm.^  Later,  the  Crusades  created  a  still  greater 
demand  for  money,  and  the  lords  were  glad  to  commute  the  dues 
of  their  serfs.  Everybody  found  money  more  convenient  than 
ploughings  and  agricultural  products;  and  this  change  could  the 
more  readily  be  made  because  the  number  of  bordars  who 
had  not  enough  land  in  tenure  to  occupy  their  whole  time  was 
now  large  enough  to  furnish  an  adequate  supply  of  wage-laborers. 
The  permanent  gain,  however,  was  on  the  side  of  the  serfs;  for 
they  not  only  got  rid  of  the  burdensome  obHgations  of  personal 
service,  but  their  class  was  greatly  elevated  later  by  the  general 
rise  of  prices.  The  rents  having  once  been  fixed  on  the  basis 
of  the  existing  value  of  a  day's  labor,  could  not  be  increased,  for 
custom  continued  to  govern  all  the  ordinary  affairs  of  life. 

These  two  tendencies,  then,  which  were  already  foimd  in 
Anglo-Saxon  manorial  Ufe,  were  strengthened  by  the  changes 

I  Ochenkowski,  Englands  wirthschaftliche  Entwickelung  am  Ausgange  des 
Mittelalters,  II,  12. 


148  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

introduced  by  the  Normans:  the  tendency  to  lose  control  of  the 
industrial  processes  after  the  men  had  been  organized  on  the 
domains,  and  the  tendency  to  change  from  the  system  of  natural 
husbandry  to  money  rents.  Directly,  the  Normans  introduced 
nothing.  The  open-field  system  which  had  come  down  from 
the  Roman  period  was  left  unchanged  until  the  great  inclosing 
movements  began.  From  the  time  of  the  organization  of  the 
servile  population  that  had  been  spared  to  labor  for  the  Saxon 
conquerors,  there  had  been  no  serious  break  in  the  movement 
toward  personal  freedom  and  the  development  of  an  individual 
who  should  find  the  values  of  the  social  process  in  his  own  activity. 
The  swallowing  of  the  Saxon  freemen  in  the  manorial  system  was 
only  an  incident  in  the  development  of  an  individuahty  such  as 
they  had  never  known  in  the  days  of  their  supposed  freedom. 
A  more  vigorous  element  was  infused  into  the  industrial  classes, 
but  the  industrial  methods  were  unchanged.  The  personal  free- 
dom that  was  finally  attained  was  an  economic  freedom,  dif- 
fering alike  from  the  freedom  of  the  older  privileged  classes  who 
had  always  stood  above  the  industrial  classes  and  from  the  free- 
dom of  barbarians  still  living  in  tribal  relations.  Although  the 
commercial  development  was  needed  to  complete  this  movement, 
its  essential  principle  was  found  in  this  freeing  of  the  technique 
of  labor.  The  commercial  development  was  to  free  the  product 
of  labor  as  well. 

The  position  of  Vinogradoff,  from  which  the  above  differs  at 
many  points,  is  largely  to  be  explained  by  two  misconceptions. 
The  first  of  these  is  one  held  in  common  by  many  eminent  advo- 
cates of  the  free-village  theory,  namely,  the  idea  that  the  member 
of  the  tribal  community  is  a  freeman  in  any  such  sense  as  we 
use  that  term  today.  The  member  of  a  tribal  community  is  not 
subject  to  a  single  master.  He  may  even  have  a  voice  in  the 
councils  of  his  tribe  and  in  the  selection  of  his  chief.  None  the 
less,  he  lacks  that  consciousness  of  individuality  which  consti- 
tutes the  modem  individual  a  freeman.  He  is  ruled  absolutely 
by  tribal  customs  that  are  often  more  tyrannical  than  any  indi- 
vidual lord  could  be,  and  he  does  not  think  of  himself  as  having 


THE  ORGANIZATION  OF  AGRICULTURE  149 

rights  and  privileges  as  against  his  community.  The  tribe  prob- 
ably never  has  perfect  liberty  to  choose  its  chief,  since  that  mat- 
ter must  be  largely  decided  by  lot  or  blood.  ^  If,  therefore,  it 
becomes  necessary  to  make  the  tenure  of  a  chief  permanent  or 
hereditary,  the  tribesman  probably  loses  Httle  of  his  liberty  for  a 
long  time.  The  permanent  chief  gains  in  individuality  and  may 
gradually  change  the  tribal  customs  to  suit  his  own  will,  but 
the  tribesman  seldom  loses  by  the  change.  Not  until  economic 
necessities  forced  the  Saxons  to  agriculture  could  it  be  said  that 
the  position  of  the  tribesmen  was  compromised;  and  then  it  was 
compromised  chiefly  because  they  had  to  take  their  stand  beside 
a  servile  class.  That  servile  class  was  composed  of  men  who 
had  formerly  belonged  to  village  communities  of  an  industrial 
character,  probably  owning  slaves  who  were  employed  on  the 
common  lands.  This  communal  agriculture  was  changed  and 
advanced  toward  the  manorial  type  when  the  Romans  came, 
but  still  retained  its  communal  features.  But  neither  on  the 
British  nor  on  the  Saxon  manors  were  the  communal  features  in- 
consistent with  a  lordship  such  as  was  found  in  the  feudal  period. 
We  may  agree,  with  Vinogradoff,  that  "the  communal  organi- 
zation of  the  peasantry  is  more  ancient  and  more  deeply  laid  than 
the  manorial  order;"*  but  it  may  be  denied  that  this  fact  necessi- 
tated free  tenures  on  the  manorial  domains  or  communities  of  free 
Saxons  anywhere. 

The  second  misconception  of  this  writer  is  due  to  his  use  of 
facts  belonging  to  the  period  when  the  villeins  were  entering  into 
the  enjoyment  of  larger  hberties  to  prove  that  larger  liberties  had 
been  enjoyed  under  the  Saxon  regime  than  under  the  Norman. 
This  is  a  most  serious  historical  fallacy.  Starting  with  the  assump- 
tion that  the  Norman  Conquest  meant  the  degradation  of  the  serfs, 
he  uses  every  document  of  Norman  times  to  prove  that  the  prac- 
tices of  those  times  were  merely  survivals  of  the  earlier  and  freer 
Saxon  times.  The  tendency  toward  greater  freedom  he  inter- 
prets as  a  tendency  away  from  greater  freedom,  as  a  survival  of 

'  Maine,  Village  Communities,  155,  156. 
'  Op.  cit.,  408. 


ISO  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

Still  greater  freedom  that  had  prevailed  in  the  earliest  Saxon 
times.     He  says: 

The  Feudal  period  ....  shows  everywhere  traces  of  a  peasant  class 
living  and  working  in  economically  self-dependent  communities  under  the 
loose  authority  of  a  lord,  whose  claims  may  proceed  from  political  sources  and 
affect  the  semblance  of  ownership,  but  do  not  give  rise  to  the  manorial  connec- 
tion between  estate  and  village.* 

This  is  true;  but  the  communities  were  self-dependent  simply 
because  of  the  facts  we  have  set  forth;  namely,  that  the  lords 
could  not  control  the  processes  of  industry,  while  the  conditions 
of  the  times  would  not  admit  of  a  commercial  interdependence. 
The  first  task  of  the  Saxon  conquerors  had  been  the  settlement 
of  themselves  and  their  followers  in  small  companies  on  the 
domains  of  the  Britons  and  the  reorganization  of  the  peasants 
who  were  to  supply  the  simple  wants  of  the  barbarians.  This 
done,  they  had  no  further  interest  in  agricultural  processes  which 
they  but  vaguely  imderstood.  The  laws  of  Ethelred,  taken  in 
connection  vdth  the  laws  of  Ine,  carry  back  the  Saxon  manor  to 
the  sixth  century;  and  since  the  greater  part  of  the  West  Saxon 
conquests  were  not  made  until  the  latter  part  of  the  sixth  century, 
"there  is  too  short  an  interval  left  unaccounted  for  to  allow  of 
great  economic  changes — to  admit  of  the  degeneracy  of  an  ori- 
ginal free  village  community  ....  into  a  community  of  serf- 
dom."" This  organization  was  allowed  to  remain  undisturbed  dur- 
ing the  next  five  centuries.  Under  its  workings  better  returns  could 
be  secured  than  in  any  other  way;  and  the  lords  being  interested 
only  in  political  control,  so  long  as  they  received  sufiicient  food 
supphes,  left  the  control  of  the  industrial  processes  in  the  hands 
of  the  laborers.  This  tendency  to  let  the  organization  run  itself 
became  more  marked  after  the  Norman  Conquest,  because  the 
domains  became  larger  or  more  numerous  and,  therefore,  less 
easily  controlled,  while  the  lords  were  even  more  entirely  occupied 
with  poUtical  affairs.  The  feudal  system,  once  estabHshed,  was 
chiefly  a  pohtical  system.     In  the  beginning,   the  agricultural 

'  Op.  cit.,  408,  409. 

'  Seebohm,  op.  cit.,  179. 


THE  ORGANIZATION  OF  AGRICULTURE  151 

organization  received  attention  only  because  the  political  system 
was  conditioned  by  it.  The  lord  and  the  "home-estate  of  the 
lord,"  as  Vinogradoff  truly  says,  were  "tacked  on  to  this  settle- 
ment and  dependent  on  the  work  supplied  by  it;"*  but  the  lord 
was  "tacked  on,"  not  to  a  free  village  community  of  which  he 
was  simply  the  elective  chief,  but  to  an  agricultural  organization 
that  had  come  down  from  the  past  and  which  was  essential  to 
the  welfare  of  the  new  society  of  which  the  lord  was  but  one  of 
the  organs.  These  lords  lost  control  of  the  industrial  organiza- 
tion, as  the  Roman  masters  never  did,  and  directed  their  atten- 
tion to  military  and  political  matters;  while  the  laborers,  left 
to  themselves,  worked  out  an  independence  which  no  laborers 
had  ever  before  enjoyed.  The  payment  of  the  -firma  unius  noctis 
to  the  king  is  not  inconsistent  with  the  servile  condition  of  the 
villagers,  in  view  of  the  nominal  claim  which  the  king  had  on 
all  lands  or  of  the  fact  that  many  domains  were  granted  to  nobles 
on  various  conditions  by  the  king;  nor  is  it  incredible  that  such 
serfs  should  sometimes  lease  the  manor  and  work  it  for  their 
common  benefit  while  the  lord  was  away  on  a  crusade ;  nor  do  we 
find  evidence  of  freedom  in  the  fact  that  the  villagers  came  to 
have  customary  rights,  which  few  lords  could  gainsay,  to  pasture 
their  sheep  and  cattle  on  the  uncultivated  lands  of  the  manor. 
All  of  these  facts  go  to  show  that  the  servile  village  tended  to  be- 
come more  and  more  self-dependent  simply  because  the  lord  could 
only  be  "tacked  on"  to  a  system  which  he  was  imable  to  control 
in  most  of  its  workings.  The  barbarian  lords  could  conquer 
the  old  populations  and  compel  them  to  become  the  producers 
for  the  new  society,  but  they  never  could  control  the  technique 
of  the  producers.  Until  the  beginning  of  the  modem  period, 
that  could  be  controlled  only  by  the  workers  themselves.  Never- 
theless, the  political  control  was  so  largely  conditioned  by  the 
economic  organization,  that  the  ruling  classes  were  obliged  to 
gain  a  semi-poHtical,  semi-economic  control  of  the  latter.  There- 
fore the  feudal  system  was  a  system  of  petty  states,  each  of  which 
was  coextensive  with  the  agricultural  area  that  sustained  it.     The 

^  Op.  cit.,  404. 


152  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

creation  of  larger  economic  communities  meant  the  decay  of 
feudalism. 

Resuming  our  consideration  of  the  internal  economy  of  the 
manor,  we  find  that,  although  a  survival  of  tribal  cultivation,  it 
was  undoubtedly  very  similar  to  the  Roman  colonate  in  its  main 
aspects.  The  villeins  greatly  resembled  the  Roman  colons. 
They  held  half-acre  strips  scattered  all  over  the  open  fields,  but 
following  a  regular  order,  which  suggests  that  they  had  not 
always  been  held  permanently,  but  were  allotted  each  year  accord- 
ing to  the  needs  of  the  various  households.^  The  total  holdings 
of  the  villein  were  almost  always  about  the  same,  and  descended 
in  single  succession.  This  shows  that  the  permanent  tenures 
were  assigned  after  the  workers  had  ceased  to  be  free,  since  tribal 
practice  would  have  led  to  divisions  among  children,  thus  ren- 
dering the  holdings  unequal  within  a  few  generations.  The 
tenants  of  all  classes  lived  in  the  village  of  the  manor  and  formed 
a  socially  independent  and  self-sufficient  group.  These  groups, 
especially  after  the  stronger  central  government  was  estabhshed 
by  the  Normans,  gradually  became  less  and  less  self-sufficing; 
but  until  the  rise  of  commerce,  the  interchange  of  commodities 
was  inconsiderable,  and  the  wants  of  the  villeins  were  wholly 
suppUed  from  within  the  manor,  excepting  that  such  commodities 
as  iron  and  salt  were  not  produced  everywhere. 

Within  the  manorial  domain  the  lord  had  almost  complete 
jurisdictional  power;  but  after  the  Conquest  he  was  limited  in 
general  matters  by  the  public  authority  as  few  of  the  continental 
lords  were.  Since  the  pubHc  power  did  not  interfere  with  the  in- 
ternal affairs  of  the  manor,  some  provision  had  to  be  made  for 
the  preservation  of  order.  On  the  Roman  villas  this  had  been 
attained  by  the  arbitrary  control  vested  in  a  representative  of 
the  master.  But  with  the  extension  of  the  colonate,  and  espe- 
cially after  the  development  of  mediaeval  serfdom,  it  became 
more  convenient  to  permit  the  tenants  to  preserve  order  among 
themselves.  Custom  having  such  an  important  place  in  mediae- 
val life,  it  was  very  easy  to  fall  back  on  the  judgment  of  all  the  men 

I  Seebohm,  op.  cit.,  113,  119-25;  cf.  Vinogradoff,  op.  cit.,  234  fif. 


THE  ORGANIZATION  OF  AGRICULTURE  153 

of  the  village  meeting  under  the  presidency  of  the  lord's  steward. 
Only  in  later  times  did  a  distinction  arise  between  the  court  baron 
for  the  free  tenants  and  the  customary  court  for  the  servile  tenants, 
and  there  is  every  reason  to  beheve  that  the  former  was  a  Norman 
institution*  introduced  for  the  benefit  of  the  more  privileged 
Norman  soldiery.  The  manorial  courts  showed  the  same  tend- 
ency that  we  have  found  in  other  manorial  institutions.  The 
interest  of  the  lord  being  only  in  the  results  of  manorial  produc- 
tion, the  villeins  were  left  to  work  out  such  a  system  of  law  and 
order  as  would  best  serve  their  own  interests,  provided  always 
that  the  domanial  authority  of  the  lord  was  not  encroached  upon. 
With  the  freeing  of  labor  by  the  process  we  have  described  and 
the  commutation  of  the  service  for  money  rent,  it  was  most  nat- 
ural that  the  oversight  of  the  lord  should  be  more  and  more 
relaxed.  Later,  the  public  law  provided  for  the  local  adminis- 
tration of  justice  whenever  the  lord  and  his  steward  became 
negligent." 

The  system  of  agriculture  found  in  England  by  the  Saxons 
was  maintained  until  the  fourteenth  or  fifteenth  century;  and 
the  semi-pohtical  control  of  the  villagers  by  the  manorial  lords 
continued  to  be  the  only  real  government  until  the  economic  com- 
munity became  larger  than  the  manor  and  required  a  new  system 
to  meet  new  needs.  The  productivity  of  the  agricultural  organi- 
zation was  comparatively  small — only  about  four  to  six  bushels 
of  wheat  per  acre^ — and  the  entire  population  had  to  devote  its 

»  Cf.  Vinogradoff,  op.  cit.,  354-96.  This  is  one  of  the  ablest  discussions  of 
the  subject,  though  the  author  shows  his  usual  tendency  to  use  evidence  of  freedom 
found  in  the  constitution  of  the  courts  to  prove  that  a  greater  freedom  had  existed 
in  the  past,  rather  than  as  evidence  that  a  greater  freedom  was  developing. 

2  "The  courts  of  the  manors,  and  the  parish  meetings  of  a  later  date,  had 
certain  features  which,  if  we  start  with  an  unconscious  presupposition  as  to  the 
original  constitution  of  Anglo-Saxon  society,  may  easily  strike  us  as  archaic,  as 
vestiges  and  survivals.  But  this  is  one  of  the  most  dangerous  arguments.  Every 
one  of  these  customs  and  features  may  be  just  as  well — ^in  default  of  evidence 
to  the  contrary — regarded  as  the  outcome  of  an  evolution  away  from  the  original 
condition." — Ashley,  "The  Anglo-Saxon  Township,"  Quarterly  Journal  of  Eco- 
nomics, VIII,  361. 

3  Rogers,  Six  Centuries  of  Work  and  Wages,  119. 


154  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

energies  to  the  cultivation  of  the  soil.  Yet  the  system  supplied 
the  needs  of  the  sparse  population  and  gradually  came  to  furnish 
a  slight  surplus.  The  surplus — especially  of  wool — served  as 
the  basis  of  wider  economic  relations  which  finally  broke  down 
the  manorial  system  and  produced  a  wider  and  more  complex 
social  organization.  The  barbarians  had  been  obUged  to  start 
with  the  agricultural  system  found  by  them  in  Britain,  and  in 
time  an  organization  was  perfected  almost  identical  with  that 
which  the  same  political  and  economic  forces  were  developing 
elsewhere.  Until  this  system  could  produce  a  surplus,  the  aspi- 
rations of  Europe  for  social  organization  could  not  be  reaUzed. 
The  state  had  been  practically  coextensive  with  the  agricultural 
community.  The  insular  position  of  England  and  the  character 
of  the  Norman  rule  enabled  the  various  sections  to  come  together 
a  little  earlier  than  was  possible  with  similar  sections  of  continen- 
tal countries.  In  a  measure,  the  ideal  element  as  represented  by 
the  king  and  the  Church  was  able  to  hasten  the  integration ;  but 
this  was  not  fully  accompUshed  until  the  fifteenth  century,  when 
the  economic  conditions  made  possible  a  wider  society  no  longer 
subject  to  feudal  hmitations.  Except  during  periods  when  mili- 
tary necessities  brought  the  whole  country  under  the  control  of 
a  single  resolute  leader,  England  never  had  a  real  king  until 
Henry  VII,  although  the  central  authority  was  more  than  the 
shadow  that  it  was  on  the  Continent. 

Western  and  central  Europe. — Turning  now  to  the  more  impor- 
tant movements  of  the  Continent,  we  find  that,  while  the  provinces 
were  conquered  with  comparative  ease,  there  were  still  forces  which 
caused  the  invaders  to  maintain,  for  a  time  at  least,  a  central  organ- 
ization such  as  was  not  found  in  Italy  and  such  as  was  not  found 
in  England  until  long  after  the  Conquest.  Leaving  Spain  out  of 
consideration,  since  the  movements  there  were  of  minor  impor- 
tance for  Europe,  and  disregarding  the  Scandinavian  countries, 
whose  development  was  too  tardy  to  be  of  interest  to  us,  we  find 
in  Gaul  and  those  Germanic  regions  which  were  brought  under 
the  dominion  of  Charlemagne  the  movements  which  were  most 
characteristic  in  the  reorganization  of  Europe.     Many  of  the  de- 


THE  ORGANIZATION  OF  AGRICULTURE  155 

tails  of  the  organization  of  the  feudal  domain  need  not  be  con- 
sidered here,  since  they  were  practically  identical  with  those  de- 
scribed as  belonging  in  more  typical  form  to  England  and  Italy; 
but  it  was  in  these  regions  that  the  essential  reconstruction  of 
society  went  on.  The  movement  in  England  was  too  tardy  and 
too  much  under  continental  influences,  while  that  in  Italy  was 
too  immature  and  too  largely  conditioned  by  the  survivals  of 
Graeco-Roman  cities,  to  be  properly  regarded  as  typical  of  the 
general  course  of  events.  It  was  in  the  Prankish  empire  that 
the  aspirations  after  social  integration  were  most  marked,  and 
it  was  there  that  the  inabihty  to  carry  forward  the  poHtical  in 
advance  of  the  economic  organization  was  most  clearly  shown. 
The  development  of  the  interior  of  Germany  was  not  so  typical 
of  the  real  movement  because  it  was  delayed  until  the  influence 
of  the  Frankish  development  became  pronounced. 

The  development  of  feudalism  in  the  Frankish  empire  con- 
tinued from  the  time  of  the  invasions  to  the  death  of  Charles  le 
Gros,  when  the  system  was  practically  complete.  The  Franks 
had  been  among  the  most  backward  of  all  the  Teutonic  races. 
When  the  Volkerwanderung  began,  they  were  still  heathen,  were 
only  half  clad,  and  had  little  pohtical  unity.  Shortly  before  the 
invasion,  they  were  still  divided  into  numerous  petty  tribes,  each 
under  a  hereditary  ruler.  About  the  time  of  the  fall  of  Rome, 
these  tribes  had  come  together  in  a  pretty  compact  nation,  for 
they  had  begun  their  movement  across  the  Rhine.  By  481  the 
Salians  had  taken  the  towns  of  Cambrai,  Arras,  and  Toumay, 
and  the  Ripurarians  held  Cologne,  Treves,  Mainz,  and  Metz. 
The  father  of  Clovis,  who  died  in  481,  was  the  most  important 
chieftain,  and  ruled  the  valley  of  the  upper  Scheldt  from  Tour- 
nay.  Clovis  easily  took  the  entire  Seine  valley,  and  gradually 
killed  all  the  other  Frankish  chiefs,  leaving  himself  the  sole  Mer- 
oving.  From  being  the  permanent  war-chief,  he  easily  extended 
his  authority  over  all  things.  The  country  was  so  easily  con- 
quered that  he  spread  his  men  over  a  wide  area.  No  folk-moot 
could  any  longer  be  held  to  regulate  the  affairs  of  so  wide  an 
empire;  therefore  the  leader  took  counsel  only  of  such  impor- 


IS6  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

tant  men  as  he  chose  to  summon  to  him.    He  became  almost 
immediately  an  absolute  monarch. 

But  the  conquest  raised  difficulties  for  the  new  monarch.  The 
band  of  invaders  was  relatively  so  insignificant  that  it  was  ne- 
cessary to  allow  the  conquered  provincials  to  manage  their  affairs 
pretty  much  as  they  had  done  before;  and  Clovis  was  shrewd 
enough  to  make  extensive  use  of  the  Christian  bishops  in  admin- 
istering his  empire.  When  spread  over  the  whole  country,  the 
Franks  had  to  remain  small  bands  of  rulers  and  soldiers.  Fustel 
probably  underestimates  the  numerical  stength  of  the  invading 
force;  but  it  is  undoubtedly  true  that  it  was  inconsiderable  as 
compared  with  the  conquered  population.  Else,  how  can  we 
account  for  the  persistence  of  the  Gallo-Roman  speech  and  the 
ready  acceptance  by  Clovis  of  the  Gallo-Roman  rehgion?  The 
old  provincials  had  become  the  most  thoroughly  Romanized  of 
any  class  in  the  Empire,  and  the  very  large  element  of  Teutons 
that  had  been  settled  in  the  province  had  become  both  Roman 
and  Christian.  These  had  become  too  completely  absorbed  by 
the  Gallo-Romans  to  be  of  any  inmiediate  assistance  to  Clovis, 
or  to  modify  radically  the  provincial  institutions.  The  miUtary 
organization  perfected  by  Clovis  prevented  any  such  immediate 
disintegration  of  the  Franks  as  the  Lombards  and  Saxons  had 
experienced;  but  when  settled  over  a  large  area  and  relieved 
from  the  danger  of  invasions,  the  administration  of  so  vast  a 
nation  became  a  serious  problem,  and  one  for  the  solution  of 
which  Clovis  and  his  successors  needed  all  the  help  they  could 
secure  from  the  natives. 

This  assistance  was  assured  when  Clovis  embraced  the  ortho- 
dox faith.  The  influence  of  Chlotilde  and  the  unconscious 
influence  of  the  majestic  ritual  which  he  found  in  his  new  do- 
minions may  have  had  something  to  do  with  the  conversion  of 
Clovis;  but  from  what  we  know  of  his  character  and  methods, 
it  is  safe  to  conclude  that  his  chief  motive  was  the  desire  to  secure 
the  support  of  his  new  subjects.  The  latter,  especially  the  clergy, 
served  him  with  a  loyalty  which  no  Gothic,  Vandal,  or  Burgun- 
dian  leader  could  ever  win ;  and  much  of  his  success  in  his  opera- 


THE  ORGANIZATION  OF  AGRICULTURE  157 

tions  against  the  Visigoths  and  in  his  efforts  to  establish  his  king- 
dom on  a  permanent  basis  may  be  attributed  to  this  cause.  In 
a  single  generation  the  Franks  all  became  Christians.^ 

The  assistance  which  Clovis  most  needed  was  in  the  way  of 
administrative  machinery  for  the  control  of  his  vast  kingdom. 
As  we  have  seen,  he  became  an  absolute  monarch;  but  had  it 
not  been  for  the  assistance  of  the  clergy  and  administrative  agents 
of  the  conquered  province,  he  would  have  been  helpless  in  con- 
trolUng  his  new  dominions,  except  as  he  could  be  present  in  a 
given  section  with  his  miUtary  forces.  No  barbarian  ruler  was 
able  to  frame  a  system  by  which  he  could  hold  various  sections 
together,  except  as  he  was  able  to  march  quickly  from  one  to 
another.  Nor  could  his  Prankish  chieftains  attend  to  any  but 
miUtary  duties.  They  were  too  ignorant  to  serve  as  clerks  and 
too  rude  to  comprehend  the  real  needs  of  the  districts  they  con- 
trolled. It  was  because  of  the  violence  and  ignorance  of  the 
barbarian  lords  that  the  system  estabUshed  by  Clovis  finally 
broke  down ;  but  the  maintenance  of  it  for  a  while  was  of  impor- 
tance in  holding  society  together  during  the  times  of  greatest 
disintegration. 

One  chief  cause  of  the  failure  of  the  Merovingian  system  was 
the  practice,  growing  out  of  the  conception  of  the  absolute  power 
of  the  king,  of  dividing  the  country  among  the  sons  of  the  king, 
according  to  the  Teutonic  ideas  of  inheritance.  This  fact  also 
indicates  that  land  had  not  long  been  a  matter  of  private  prop- 
erty, for  the  results  of  frequent  subdivisions  of  land  would  be  so 
disastrous  that  the  practice  could  not  be  kept  up  permanently. 
These  divisions  of  the  kingdom  caused  so  many  intemescine 
struggles  and  so  many  minorities  that  the  power  of  the  kings  was 
soon  greatly  weakened.  But  at  no  time,  even  under  the  rois 
faineants,  were  the  kings  less  than  absolute  monarchs ;  nor  at  any 
time  did  the  people  think  of  the  various  divisions  of  the  empire 
as  separate  nations. 

Clovis,  Uke  the  other  barbarian  conquerors,  felt  an  admiration 
for  the  institutions  he  was  attacking.     The  high  respect  paid  to 

I  Oman,  op.  cit.,  58-64. 


158  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

the  supreme  power  by  the  provincials  exactly  suited  him,  when 
it  was  transferred  from  the  emperor  to  himself.  The  powers  vested 
in  the  ruler  by  the  Roman  law  won  from  him  an  approval  of  that 
system  which  nothing  produced  by  the  barbarians  could  ehcit. 
The  bestowal  upon  him  by  the  eastern  emperor  of  the  title  of 
consul  seemed  to  him  and  to  his  subjects  to  ratify  his  conquests 
and  to  clothe  him  with  the  majesty  which  had  belonged  to  the 
emperors.^  Added  to  these  advantages  seen  by  Clovis,  he  had 
the  same  reason  for  making  use  of  what  he  found  that  was  present 
with  all  barbarian  conquerors;  namely,  that,  coming  as  colonists 
and  not  merely  as  conquerors,  the  better  mode  of  Hfe  made  pos- 
sible by  the  inventions  and  devices  of  a  civilized  people  could 
be  enjoyed  only  as  those  inventions  and  devices  and  the  men  to 
work  them  were  preserved. 

During  the  whole  Merovingian  period,  the  system  accepted 
and  modified  by  Clovis  was  maintained,  though  it  finally  became 
but  a  shadow.  The  governmental  machinery  was  a  composite 
of  the  Teutonic  and  Roman  systems.  The  royal  household  per- 
petuated some  of  the  features  of  the  comitatus.  The  personal 
companions  of  the  king  were  his  antrustions,  the  chief  of  whom 
was  the  Mayor  of  the  Palace.  At  first,  all  of  these,  except  the 
referandarius  or  secretary,  were  Franks;  but  by  605  the  office 
of  Mayor  of  the  Palace  was  filled  by  a  Gallo-Roman.  The  govern- 
ment of  the  provinces  was  intrusted  to  counts  and  dukes  who  were 
named  by  the  king  and  could  be  removed  at  his  pleasure.  In  the 
purely  Teutonic  sections  of  the  empire  the  unit  of  administration 
was  the  old  tribal  district  or  gau;  in  the  Gallo-Roman  section 
it  was  the  civitas  with  its  surrounding  district.  On  the  borders 
several  countships  were  sometimes  united  under  a  duke.  These 
provincial  governors  appointed  vicarii  and  minor  officials.  The 
administrative  system  was  thus  copied  after  that  which  had 
existed  under  the  Empire." 

A  great  source  of  strength  to  the  king  was  his  acquisition  of 

'  Bryce,  op.  cit.,  30;  Oman,  op.  cit.,  121,  122. 

'  Oman,  op.  cit.,  125,  126;  Fustel  de  Coulanges,  Les  origines  du  systime  feodal, 
347-53- 


THE  ORGANIZATION  OF  AGRICULTURE  159 

the  vast  imperial  domains.  These  now  became  the  private 
property  of  the  family  of  Clovis.  These  estates  were  adminis- 
tered by  the  king's  domestici.  The  income  from  these  domains, 
together  with  the  revenues  exacted  from  the  various  districts  by 
the  counts  and  customs  duties  levied  at  frontiers,  gave  the  king 
great  nominal  resources.  But  abuses  soon  crept  in  which  the 
Prankish  kings  were  less  able  to  handle  than  the  Roman  emperors 
had  been;  and  the  revenues  actually  received  were  insuflScient 
to  maintain  a  strong  government.  Because  of  wars  among  the 
rival  successors  of  Clovis,  the  kings  were  obliged  to  purchase  the 
support  of  powerful  nobles  by  granting  large  estates  from  the 
royal  domains.  Other  domains  were  appropriated  by  officials 
who  were  charged  with  their  care,  and  kings  were  frequently 
too  weak  to  dispossess  the  robbers.  Finally,  the  royal  counts 
became  local  despots,  or  else  were  imable  to  control  the  nobles  of 
their  districts.  Out  of  these  administrative  weaknesses,  together 
with  the  development  of  the  manorial  system,  grew  feudaUsm 
in  its  strongest  form. 

The  domanial  organization  did  not  dififer  materially  from 
that  of  England.  We  can  not  be  sure  that  the  open-field  system 
was  found  everywhere  on  the  Continent.  No  such  detailed 
studies  of  the  continental  methods  of  cultivation  have  been  made 
as  we  have  for  England.  At  the  time  of  the  conquest,  the  Roman 
villa  and  the  German  heim  were  becoming  more  and  more  ahke. 
Slaves  were  becoming  scarcer  in  Gaul  because  the  wars  of  con- 
quest had  ceased;  and  the  labor  of  colons  and  freedmen  was 
being  substituted,  as  already  described.  The  invaders  appro- 
priated both  the  lands  and  the  occupants.  It  does  not  appear 
that  all  of  the  provincial  proprietors  were  dispossessed,  but  the 
greatest  estates  must  have  passed  into  the  hands  of  the  Frankish 
leaders,  while  the  imperial  domains  became  the  property  of  the 
king.  The  Church  lands,  at  least,  were  not  disturbed  by  the 
conquest.  They  were  probably  increased.  The  changes  in 
ownership  which  took  place  did  not  change  the  methods  em- 
ployed. At  the  time  of  Charlemagne,  the  nature  of  the  domain 
was  not  materially  changed,  except  that  men  who  had  been  in 


l6o  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

personal  servitude  had  become  villein  tenants.  The  domains 
became  the  absolute  possession  of  the  lords,  as  had  been  the  case 
under  Roman  rule.  The  organization  was  usually  such  that  it 
was  practically  impossible  to  divide  a  domain  that  had  once  been 
established;  but  the  possession  of  groups  of  domains  made  it 
easier  for  the  lords  to  avoid  leaving  a  single  domain  to  several 
sons  in  conmion.  There  is  no  evidence  whatever  of  communal 
ownership  by  a  group  of  Frankish  freemen.  The  tribesmen, 
as  in  the  other  cases  considered,  were  taken  on  the  domain  by 
their  chief,  and  remained,  for  a  time  at  least,  freemen  and  soldiers. 
Such  freemen,  jranci,  were  found  on  the  royal  domains  in  the  time 
of  Charlemagne,*  and  had  doubtless  existed  on  all  estates  under 
the  earlier  Merovings.  These  men  must  have  constituted  a 
non-industrial,  miUtary  class.  That  this  was  the  case  is  shown 
by  the  fact  that  the  proprietors,  at  a  much  later  date  than  the 
first  settlement,  would  frequently  bestow  upon  these  freemen 
lots  within  their  domain,  in  recognition  of  their  faithful  service. 
These  lots  might  be  given  jure  proprietario  or  sub  reddiius  terrae. 
In  the  latter  case  the  beneficiary  evidently  became  a  tenant;  in 
the  former  he  held  the  land  free  of  charges,"  but  since  his  lot 
could  not  be  cut  out  of  the  domain,  he  must  have  worked  under 
the  conditions  that  governed  the  serfs,  though  he  probably  ren- 
dered military  service  in  lieu  of  labor,  as  with  the  sochmen  of 
England.  Rents  and  duties  doubtless  seemed  to  the  tenants  the 
legitimate  price  of  the  land  they  enjoyed,  and  were  not  regarded 
as  marks  of  servitude.  Nevertheless,  the  tenure  inevitably  threw 
the  man  into  dependence  upon  a  great  proprietor.  The  man 
might  be  personally  free,  and  yet  be  subject  to  the  proprietor  on 
account  of  the  land  he  occupied,  and  this  subordination  always 
tended  to  become  hereditary.  Thus  the  freeman  came  to  occupy 
practically  the  same  position  as  the  serf.  If  the  freeman  should 
undertake  to  cultivate  a  lot  under  contract,  the  outcome  was  the 
same.  As  conditions  became  more  unsettled,  it  became  increas- 
ingly more  difficult  for  anyone  except  a  great  proprietor  to  main- 

I  Capitulary  de  villis,  iv. 

'  Marculfe,  II,  36,  cited  by  Coiilanges. 


THE  ORGANIZATION  OF  AGRICULTURE  i6i 

tain  his  free  position.  This  class  of  free  tenants  on  the  way  to 
villeinage  was  augmented  by  such  artisans  as  remained  after  the 
decay  of  all  industry  and  the  destruction  of  the  towns.  Though 
the  pubHc  power  might  protect  these  free  tenants  for  a  time,  it 
was  soon  too  weak  to  enter  the  domains  to  administer  law  or 
protect  contracts.^ 

The  invasions  did  not  materially  alter  the  colonate.  Neither 
the  Germanic  nor  the  Christian  spirit  reproved  the  institution. 
The  barbarian  codes  contrast  the  colons  with  slaves,  but  hold 
them  to  be  none  the  less  dependent.  Legally  attached  to  the  soil, 
the  colon  was  indirectly  attached  to  the  proprietor  of  the  soil. 
If  he  left  the  domain,  he  could  be  returned  by  force.  On  the 
other  hand,  there  are  several  records  of  judgments  passed  on 
masters  for  trying  to  evict  colons.^  Such  cases  must  have  oc- 
curred before  the  decay  of  the  royal  power;  and  they  could  never 
have  been  numerous,  for  the  proprietors  were  usually  anxious 
to  secure  cultivators.  The  rents  of  colons  were  doubtless  deter- 
mined in  the  beginning  by  each  proprietor  for  each  colon,  and 
consented  to  by  the  colon;  but  when  once  fixed,  rents  could  not 
be  changed.  There  is  no  evidence  that  the  Franks  tried  to  inter- 
fere with  the  customary  rents  of  colons  found  on  the  conquered 
domains.  3 

After  the  conquest,  the  slaves  bore  the  same  names  they  had 
under  the  Romans — servi,  mancipia.  They  were  of  every  race; 
and  a  Roman  proprietor  might  own  German  slaves.  No  dis- 
tinction is  made  between  the  two  classes  in  the  charters  or  laws. 
The  Germans  had  no  thought  of  abolishing  slavery;  but  enfran- 
chisement went  on,  as  under  the  Romans,  The  freedmen  and 
the  slaves  ahke  remained  on  the  land  of  the  master.  The  tend- 
ency to  employ  slaves  in  the  same  manner  as  the  colons,  which 
we  found  on  the  Roman  domains,  was  greatly  accelerated  when 
the  land  passed  into  the  hands  of  proprietors  who  did  not  know 
how  to  work  gangs  of  slaves.     The  slaves  were  given  tenures 

»  Coulanges,  L'alleu,  415,  416. 
»  Ibid.,  358h3o. 
3  Ibid.,  406,  407. 


l62  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

similar  to  those  of  the  colons  and  on  practically  the  same  terms. 
It  soon  became  impossible  to  distinguish  between  the  two  classes 
except  by  name;  and  we  can  hardly  beUeve  that  the  remem- 
brance of  their  ancient  hberty  was  highly  esteemed  by  the  colons. 
Intermarriages  between  the  two  classes  began  to  take  place; 
their  habits  and  conditions  of  hfe  were  aUke;  the  colon  showed 
no  repugnance  at  Uving  in  a  servile  manse;  and  finally  the  two 
classes  were  so  completely  confounded  as  to  be  designated  by 
the  single  term,  villani.^ 

In  this  same  class  were  included  also  the  freemen  who  were 
foimd  on  the  domain.  It  was  inevitable  that  all  of  these  classes 
should  become  amalgamated  in  one,  for  they  all  lived  and  worked 
under  the  same  conditions  and  were  subject  to  the  same  master 
It  was  also  inevitable  that  the  lordship  of  the  master  should 
come  to  be  of  the  same  semi-poHtical,  semi-economic  character 
that  we  found  prevailing  in  England.  The  laborers  were  left 
free  to  pursue  their  own  methods,  provided  they  suppUed  the 
wants  of  the  master.  The  villeins  could  cultivate  their  tenures 
as  they  pleased.  The  industrial  obligations  of  the  tenants  did 
not  differ  materially  from  those  of  the  English  villeins.  One 
duty  which  does  not  seem  to  have  been  imposed  in  England  ap- 
pears— the  hostilium,  a  moderate  annual  return  to  the  lord  for 
the  support  of  his  military  establishment.  Then,  if  war  came, 
the  lord  bore  all  the  charges,  paying  the  amount  due  from  his 
whole  domain  when  he  recognized  the  authority  of  the  king. 
After  the  practice  of  working  the  demesne  lands  by  gangs  of 
slaves  was  abandoned,  it  is  not  certain  that  the  open-field  system 
was  introduced  on  the  old  Roman  villas.  That  system  being 
the  result  of  the  modification  of  tribal  cultivation  by  the  checking 
of  migrations,  there  is  no  reason  why  the  invaders  of  Gaul  and 
Italy  should  compel  the  agricultural  population  to  substitute  it 
for  the  system  that  was  being  introduced  so  extensively  on  the 
Roman  villas.  That  the  villeins  held  definite  tenures  can  not  be 
disputed;  but  whether  the  tenures  were  in  scattered  strips,  ne- 
cessitating common  cultivation,  or  were  in  independent  lots  which 

I  op.  cit.,  274-78,  413,  414. 


THE  ORGANIZATION  OF  AGRICULTURE  163 

could  be  cultivated  by  the  holder  alone,  with,  perhaps,  a  little 
assistance  at  certain  seasons,  is  not  altogether  clear.  Fustel  de 
Coulanges  holds  to  the  latter  view,  and  it  seems  to  be  the  more 
probable  one;^  but  it  must  be  confessed  that  he  made  no  such 
thorough-going  examination  as  Seebohm  has  of  the  English  condi- 
tions. In  the  German  regions  of  the  Prankish  empire  the  three- 
course  open-field  system  prevailed  as  in  England.*  But  however 
the  land  may  have  been  divided  among  the  tenants,  the  essential 
features  of  the  manor  were  always  the  same.  Whether  starting 
from  the  Roman  villa  or  from  the  German  tribal  community, 
the  conditions  always  became  practically  the  same.  Everywhere 
the  lands  were  held  by  lords  and  cultivated  by  tenants  who, 
whether  originally  slaves  or  freemen,  became  a  common  villein 
class.  Everywhere  these  villeins  came  to  adopt  their  own  methods 
in  the  cultivation  of  their  holdings,  returning  to  the  lord  only 
the  customary  rents  and  services.  Everywhere  the  domains  be- 
came complete  economic  communities,  producing  practically  every- 
thing required  for  their  simple  Ufe.  And  everywhere  the  political 
society  tended  to  shrink  to  the  dimensions  of  the  economic. 

The  breaking  of  the  Frankish  empire  into  fragments  corre- 
sponding to  the  economic  communities  was  caused,  on  the  one 
hand,  by  this  development  of  economic  independence,  whereby 
a  given  community  could  supply  all  of  its  own  wants  and  could 
neither  help  another  community  nor  be  helped  by  it;  and,  on 
the  other,  by  the  lack  of  abiUty  on  the  part  of  the  barbarians  to 
maintain  a  permanent  organization  for  peaceful  life,  so  that  when 
the  invasions  were  over  and  no  single  foe  threatened  the  nation, 
the  empire  fell  wholly  apart. 

This  economic  independence  of  minute  communities  was 
brought  about  by  several  causes,  most  of  which  have  usually 
been  overlooked.  First,  we  may  note  the  violence  which  ren- 
dered commercial  intercourse  impossible.     So  long  as  the  Franks 

I  L'alleu,  360-74.  Most  of  the  argument  is  based  upon  Guerard's  Polyp' 
tyque  de  Saint  Germain.  Cf.  Seebohm,  "French  Peasant  Proprietorship  under 
the  Open-Field  System  of  Husbandry,"  The  Economic  Journal,  I  (1891),  59  ff. 

'  Seebohm,  op.  dt.,  336-99. 


l64  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

were  held  together  as  an  army  under  Clovis,  a  considerable  de- 
gree of  commercial  activity  was  kept  up;  for  it  was  not  the  desire 
of  the  conquerors  to  interfere  with  commerce.  When  Gregory 
of  Tours  wrote  his  history,  Gaul  was  still  in  relations  with  the 
East  and  the  Mediterranean  ports  had  not  yet  lost  their  impor- 
tance.^ The  direct  cause  of  the  destruction  of  maritime  com- 
merce was  the  piracy  of  the  Saracens  and,  later,  of  the  North- 
men. But  the  main  cause  of  the  interruption  of  the  commercial 
routes  by  land  was  the  inabiUty  of  the  barbarians  to  organize  a 
government.  The  empire  fell  apart  as  soon  as  the  conquests 
had  been  completed;  and  only  during  the  short  period  when  the 
conmion  danger  from  the  Saracen  invasion  forced  the  various 
sections  of  Christendom  to  organize  under  the  Mayors  of  the 
Palace  and  Charlemagne,  could  a  government  be  maintained  that 
was  able  to  preserve  order.  Not  from  a  desire  to  destroy  com- 
merce, but  from  inability  to  maintain  orderly  government,  did 
the  barbarians  suffer  the  destruction  of  means  of  communication 
and  make  their  local  communities  self-sufficient.  Under  the 
Merovings  commerce  did  not  become  entirely  extinct.  This 
was  because  communication  with  the  East  was  not  entirely  cut 
off,  because  the  Roman  roads,  though  neglected,  had  not  become 
impassable,  and  because  a  certain  amount  of  stored-up  wealth 
and  a  few  of  the  old  industries  still  remained  to  serve  as  a  basis 
for  exchange.  After  the  death  of  Charlemagne,  the  simultaneous 
inroads  on  all  sides  by  Saracen  and  Norse  pirates,  which  a  strong 
government  with  great  economic  resources  might  have  withstood, 
completely  destroyed  all  possibiUty  of  commercial  intercourse. 
The  community  that  could  not  maintain  itself  perished.  Each 
domanial  community  was  shut  in  by  itseK.  The  residences  of 
the  lords  and  bishops  became  forts.  No  help  could  be  expected 
from  outside  sources.  Famines  and  epidemics  became  common. 
Money  ceased  to  circulate.  All  that  could  be  hoped  for  was  a 
sufficiency  of  the  simplest  necessaries  of  life.' 

'  Pirenne,  "L'origine  des  constitutions  urbaines  au  moyen  l.ge,"  II,  Revue 
historique,  LVII,  57.  For  convenience  future  references  to  this  series  of  articles 
will  be  made  simply  by  volume  and  page  of  the  Revue. 

'  Pigeonneau,  Histoire  du  commerce  de  la  France,  I,  57-59,  87-90;   Levas- 


THE  ORGANIZATION  OF  AGRICULTURE  165 

A  second  important  cause  of  the  isolation  of  the  domains  was 
the  lowering  of  the  standard  of  living  brought  about  by  the  in- 
vasions. The  barbarians  themselves  desired  little  more  than 
the  necessaries  of  life.  War  had  previously  supplied  their  needs, 
and  while  they  were  now  willing  to  take  advantage  of  the  oppor- 
tunity to  secure  a  more  adequate  and  constant  supply,  their  de- 
sire for  much  that  had  constituted  the  bulk  of  commerce  was 
not  strong  enough  to  induce  them  to  encourage  manufactures  in 
any  way.  Since  they  were  the  only  possible  consumers  of  the 
important  products,  and  since  they  cared  for  little  but  food,  or- 
dinary clothing,  and  military  equipment,  such  artisans  as  were 
left  in  the  decaying  cities  had  little  incentive  to  keep  up  their 
industries.  The  destruction  of  the  industries,  or  the  falling-ofiF 
of  the  demand  for  their  products,  withdrew  the  latter  from  cir- 
culation, and,  consequently,  left  little  occasion  for  the  circulation 
of  agricultural  products.  There  was  seldom,  it  is  true,  a  surplus 
of  these  for  exchange ;  but  the  fact  that  there  was  almost  nothing 
for  which  the  agriculturists  cared  to  exchange  their  products 
meant  that  there  was  little  stimulus  to  greater  production. 

This  lack  of  any  surplus  of  agricultural  products  for  exchange 
constituted  a  third  cause  of  the  isolation  of  the  domain.  The 
disorganization  of  the  domains,  even  where  the  appropriation 
was  most  peaceable,  must  have  been  very  great.  Before  the 
settlements  were  completed  much  raiding  took  place,  causing 
the  destruction  of  property  and  laborers.  The  changes  which 
cut  off  importations  of  food  products  made  it  necessary  to  raise 
crops  for  which  given  domains  were  not  best  suited,  as  when 
land  that  was  admirably  adapted  to  wheat  had  to  produce 
grapes.  This  decreased  the  productivity  of  many  domains; 
and,  in  turn,  as  more  diversified  but  smaller  crops  were  secured, 
still  less  was  left  for  possible  exchange.  In  Germany,  where 
the  domains  were  just  being  formed,  the  demands  of  settled  life 
were  with  difficulty  being  met  by  the  agricultural  organization. 
There  the  system  was  modeled  after  that  found  in  Gaul,  but 

seur,  Histoire  des  classes  ouvrihres  en  France,  I,  107,  108,  147-57;  Inama-Stemegg, 
Deutsche  Wirtscha/tsgeschichte,  I,  460-66;    Oman,  op.  cit.,  512-14. 


i66  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

there  was  never  a  group  of  provincial  cultivators  to  give  impetus 
to  the  work.  In  places  where  cultivation  was  kept  up  without 
interruption,  the  interference  by  the  newcomers  and  their  inability 
to  keep  the  workers  up  to  their  best  caused  a  serious  decrease 
in  the  productivity  of  the  domains.  Although  the  Romans 
were  doing  away  with  slave  labor  on  the  demesne,  the  bar- 
barians, with  almost  no  ability  to  direct  such  labor,  allowed  the 
old  system  to  continue  for  a  long  time.  Further,  the  constant 
wars  carried  on  by  the  unruly  lords  against  one  another  resulted 
in  the  destruction  of  many  a  crop  and  the  discouragement  of  the 
cultivators.  All  in  all,  partly  as  the  result  of  bad  management 
of  the  system,  partly  because  of  local  disturbances,  partly  on 
account  of  the  cessation  of  commercial  operations — which  the 
scant  agricultural  products  in  turn  made  more  complete — the 
food  question  soon  became  all-important  to  barbarian  society; 
and  the  feudal  system  finds  its  chief  explanation  in  the  fact  that 
every  locality  had  to  develop  its  own  food  supply.  Until  a  sur- 
plus of  agricultural  products  could  be  assured  there  was  no  pos- 
sibility of  a  revival  of  commerce  and  the  re-establishment  of 
an  economic  interdependence  that  would  bind  distant  locahties 
together  in  one  community.  Within  the  domain  everything 
was  done  with  reference  to  securing  the  cultivation  of  as  much 
land  as  possible.  Since  conditions  were  everywhere  the  same, 
the  agricultural  system  adopted  was  everywhere  the  same.  Not 
only  was  the  type  of  domain  everywhere  the  same,  but  this  was 
the  type  of  society  ever3rwhere.  Whether  or  not  a  few  commu- 
nities of  free  villagers  existed  here  and  there  throughout  the  civ- 
ilized world,  is  a  matter  of  very  little  concern  to  the  student  of 
European  development.  Such  communities  had  undoubtedly 
existed  in  some  places;  but  if  any  of  them  remained  after  the  con- 
quests were  made,  it  was  only  in  some  out-of-the-way  places 
and  in  sections  which  really  lay  outside  of  the  essential  move- 
ment of  the  times.  Europe  was  everywhere  organized  on  the 
manorial  plan,  and  had  to  maintain  that  organization  in  order 
to  exist  at  all  and  prepare  for  the  larger  organization  that  was  to 
come. 


THE  ORGANIZATION  OF  AGRICULTURE  167 

A  fourth  cause  of  disintegration  was  the  lack  of  political  ability 
among  the  Teutons.  As  stated,  Clovis  attempted  to  organize 
his  dominions  on  the  model  of  the  Roman  Empire,  and  called 
to  his  assistance  the  Roman  bishops  and  many  of  the  inferior 
provincial  officers.  With  their  help  he  organized  an  absolute 
monarchy.  The  tribes  just  emerging  from  barbarism  had  but 
poorly  developed  political  faculties.  This  was  true  of  both 
Saracens  and  Teutons.  The  former  had  a  fanatical  zeal  that 
could  carry  all  before  them  in  Spain,  but  as  soon  as  the  country 
was  subdued  interminable  conflicts  arose  within  their  state.  So, 
it  was  only  under  special  pressure  from  without,  or  when  under 
a  resolute  leader  they  attacked  a  more  concentrated  society,  that 
the  Teutons  could  be  held  together.  The  Merovingian  monarchy 
soon  began  to  crumble  in  spite  of  the  aspirations  of  its  chiefs. 
There  was  no  organic  social  life  expressing  itself  in  the  govern- 
ment. The  latter  was  simply  a  mechanical  system  impressed 
upon  the  tribes  from  above.  No  hand  could  be  strong  enough 
to  crowd  the  new  life  into  the  old  form,  except  for  brief  periods 
when  conditions  were  as  described.  Civil  war  raged  among  all 
the  barbarian  peoples,  and  kept  back  the  industrial  development 
which  alone  could  form  the  basis  of  a  strong  and  stable  political 
organization. 

It  may  be  thought  that  the  influence  of  the  Roman  bishops  and 
administrative  officers  could  have  given  strength  to  the  Prankish 
monarchy.  It  did  for  a  while;  and  without  them  it  is  not  likely 
that  either  Clovis  or  Charlemagne  could  have  organized  a  mon- 
archy; much  less  could  their  weak  successors  have  maintained 
even  a  shadow  of  one.  But  after  the  first  generation  or  so,  these 
bishops  had  themselves  become  Teutonic  in  their  blood  and  life; 
and  though  the  traditions  of  the  Church  and  its  method  of 
selecting  its  leaders  kept  them  somewhat  above  the  average  of 
the  lay  officials,  yet  during  the  darkest  period  the  leaders  of  the 
Church  showed  little  practical  administrative  ability.  The 
ecclesiastical  organization  itself  became  very  weak  and  might 
have  gone  to  pieces,  had  it  presented  as  many  practical  problems 
as  the  general  social  life  raised.    It  was  by  holding  up  a  general 


l68  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

ideal  of  social  organization  and  by  realizing  it  on  a  small  scale  in 
religious  communities  that  the  Church  most  assisted  the  State. 
In  a  practical  way  the  best  that  the  Church  could  do  was  to  modify 
slightly  the  civil  strife.  Not  all  the  power  of  the  Church  over 
the  barbarian  mind  could  enable  it  to  keep  the  mechanical  frame 
of  government  in  successful  operation.  The  ideal  of  unity  had 
a  powerful  influence,  but  its  mode  of  application  had  to  be  deter- 
mined by  the  social  life.  What  the  aspiring  monarchs  could  not 
do,  the  petty  lords  and  their  servile  tenants  were  accomplishing. 
Within  each  petty  society  law  and  order  prevailed.  Each  secured 
the  economic  resources  which  became  the  basis  both  of  a  military 
organization  that  could  protect  Europe  in  the  time  of  darkness 
and  of  the  larger  social  integration  that  was  to  follow.  When 
the  lords  had  finally  thrown  off  the  restraints  of  the  mechanical 
monarchy,  they  were  able  to  withstand  with  their  fortified  castles 
and  a  few  mailed  horsemen  the  marauders  whom  the  imperial 
armies  could  never  touch. 

The  disintegration  of  the  pseudo-empire  went  on  from  the 
time  of  the  final  settlement  until  the  feudal  system  was  fully 
formed.  Not  even  the  genius  of  Charlemagne  could  effectually 
check  the  movement.  The  phase  of  the  disintegration  which 
most  clearly  indicates  the  tendency  to  make  the  political  com- 
munity identical  with  the  agricultural  was  the  failure  of  the  county 
system  and  the  introduction  of  immunities.  As  we  have  seen, 
the  Prankish  king  appointed  counts  to  act  as  provincial  gov- 
ernors. These  functionaries  were  simply  the  representatives  of 
an  absolute  monarch.  They  held  courts  and  executed  the  public 
laws.  Each  countship  was  assessed  a  definite  annual  tribute 
which  the  count  had  to  raise  on  his  own  responsibility.  Since 
there  was  practically  no  restriction  placed  upon  him  in  the  col- 
lection of  this  tribute,  he  usually  exacted  a  liberal  commission. 
In  holding  court  the  count  was  likewise  practically  unrestrained. 
He  sat  in  company  with  the  rachimburgi,  a  few  assessors  chosen 
from  among  the  chief  men  of  his  district.  Though  frequently 
the  most  powerful  nobles  of  the  county,  these  assessors  had  no 
legal  authority  apart  from  the  count,  but  by  ancient  custom  they 


THE  ORGANIZATION  OF  AGRICULTURE  169 

were  called  in  to  assist  him.  The  count  had  full  authority  except 
where  persons  were  so  great  that  they  could  be  tried  before  the 
king.  The  assemblies  met  simply  to  hear  decisions.  The  tribal 
customs  had  given  way  to  an  autocracy  as  complete  as  that  of 
the  Empire.^  In  Roman  times  the  provincial  governor  had 
been  the  real  representative  of  the  State.  He  was  checked  by 
numerous  intermediate  officials,  and  his  authority  was  limited 
to  civil  affairs.  The  provincials  readily  looked  to  him  for  the  re- 
dress of  grievances  and  the  development  of  local  resources.  The 
Frankish  count  gained  greatly  by  the  changed  conditions  of  his 
times.  The  intermediate  officials  had  disappeared,  so  that  there 
was  no  one  between  him  and  the  king  who,  of  course,  could  not 
directly  control  all  of  his  subordinates.  He  acquired  military  as 
well  as  civil  powers.  He  probably  no  longer  received  a  salary 
from  the  State,  but  had  to  make  up  his  income  from  the  district. 
When  the  king  had  ceased  to  control  his  counties  by  his  own 
military  power,  the  local  count  became  a  petty  despot,  and  land- 
owners found  it  desirable  to  obtain  immunity  from  his  juris- 
diction.' 

It  was  when  the  king  was  losing  control  of  his  counts  and 
when  the  latter  were  becoming  practically  independent,  just 
before  the  power  of  the  monarch  was  completely  lost,  that  the 
granting  of  immunities  both  hastened  the  disintegration  and 
indicated  a  tendency  that  was  inevitable  in  any  event.  The  im- 
munity always  asserted  the  absolute  authority  of  the  monarch. 
It  emanated  from  the  free  will  of  the  king  on  solicitation  of  the 
beneficiary.  It  took  the  form  of  an  ordinance  addressed  to  the 
agents  of  administration,  and  implied  the  absolute  power  of  the 
king  to  control  them  as  mere  agents.  The  concession  was  always 
accorded  to  individual  lords,  never  to  groups  or  districts.  It 
was  never  treated  as  a  right  of  the  person  inmiuned,  but  was 
wholly  a  royal  favor,  and  had  to  be  renewed  for  each  generation 
to   remain   technically  valid.^     By  these  instruments  the  public 

^  Oman,  op.  cit.,  125,  126. 

«  Jenks,  "The  County,"  Contemporary  Review,  LXXII  (1897),  402-4. 

3  Coulanges,  Systime  feodal,  360-66. 


XJO  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

functionaries,  that  is,  the  counts  and  their  agents,  were  forbidden 
to  go  upon  the  domain  of  the  beneficiary  to  hold  court  or  serve 
processes."  But  while  the  jurisdiction  of  the  royal  agent  was 
suppressed,  the  direct  jurisdiction  of  the  king  remained  in  full 
force.  In  the  writings  of  Gregory  of  Tours  the  nobles  are  repre- 
sented as  judged  by  the  king.  The  beneficiaries  of  the  immu- 
nities conceived  of  themselves  as  directly  governed  by  the  king. 
To  the  landowners  the  administrative  agents  appeared  as  mas- 
ters, always  present  and  always  detested,  who  abused  their  power 
as  judges  and  receivers  of  taxes.  The  king  was  more  distant 
and  had  not  the  power  to  accomplish  so  much  evil.  The  kings 
doubtless  thought  that  the  immunity  fortified  their  authority 
by  rendering  it  more  direct  and  personal;  but  in  reality  they  were 
powerless  to  assert  their  authority.  If  they  could  not  control 
their  counts,  they  were  far  less  able  to  control  innumerable  indi- 
viduals. Only  a  well-arranged  administrative  system  could 
protect  the  interests  of  the  central  government;  and  so,  when 
the  counts  were  forbidden  to  act  as  royal  agents  on  certain  do- 
mains, the  public  laws  could  no  longer  be  executed  nor  the  taxes 
collected  within  the  immunity.  The  absolute  monarchy  was 
preserved  in  theory,  but  in  reality  the  immunity  amounted  to  an 
abandonment  of  public  authority,  and  carried  disorder  into  the 
whole  financial  and  administrative  system  that  had  been  carried 
over  from  the  Roman  empire." 

It  may  be  questioned  whether  the  immunity  was  of  any  such 
importance  as  Coulanges  claims,  whether  it  was  anything  more 
than  a  mere  surface  indication  of  the  unavoidable  tendency  of 
the  time.  If  the  king  could  not  compel  his  counts  to  observe 
the  laws  which  he  himself  desired  to  have  executed,  how  could 
he  give  force  to  the  immunities  which  he  granted  to  favored  land- 
owners ?  If  the  counts  had  become  local  potentates,  why  should 
they  rehnquish  their  authority  on  the  mere  command  of  an  im- 
potent king?  The  answer  is,  that  it  was  only  before  the  king 
had  lost  all  coercive  power,  and  before  the  lords  of  domains 

'  Coulfinges,  Systhne,  372-75;  L'alleu,  454-56. 
»  Coulanges,  Systhne,  397-99,  407,  412. 


THE  ORGANIZATION  OF  AGRICULTURE  171 

had  quite  attained  to  independent  power,  when  the  counts  were 
actually  administering  the  public  law,  but  were  practicing  many 
abuses,  that  the  immunity  could  have  any  force  as  emanating 
from  the  king  or  could  be  needed  for  the  protection  of  the  lords. 
The  counts  had  become  more  powerful  in  their  districts  and  had 
slipped  beyond  the  control  of  the  king,  but  a  part  of  their  power 
consisted  in  the  recognition  of  their  relation  to  the  royal  authority. 
It  is  noteworthy  that  nearly  all  of  the  known  charters  of  im- 
munity were  granted  to  bishops  and  abbots,  though  lay  charters 
are  not  unknown.  The  greater  number  of  grants  to  ecclesiastical 
lords  may  be  only  apparent,  for  the  documents  were  much  more 
likely  to  be  preserved  by  them  than  by  the  laics;  but  it  is  not 
at  all  improbable  that  more  immunities  were  actually  granted 
to  them  than  to  laymen.  The  Frankish  kings  were  notoriously 
partial  to  the  Church,  and  would  be  likely  to  relieve  the  eccle- 
siastical domains  from  external  interference  whenever  complaint 
was  made.  They  would  likewise  be  more  willing  to  have  the 
ecclesiastical  lords  administer  the  laws  on  their  own  domains, 
and  more  disposed  to  allow  them  to  escape  taxation.  And  the 
ecclesiastical  lords  were  more  likely  to  ask  for  immunity,  because 
less  able  to  resist  by  force  the  extortion  of  the  count.  The  im- 
muned  lords  were  supposed  to  administer  the  public  law  on  their 
domains  and  to  continue  to  pay  taxes;  but  there  was  no  one  to 
see  that  the  law  was  observed,  and  it  was  easy  to  stop  paying 
taxes  when  there  was  no  local  collector.  It  was  especially  easy 
to  divert  public  taxes  for  religious  purposes.  The  ordinances 
commanding  the  counts  to  keep  oflF  of  the  ecclesiastical  domains 
would  be  more  likely  to  be  obeyed  than  those  exempting  lay 
nobles  from  their  jurisdiction.  It  is  true  that  the  hostility  be- 
tween a  count  and  a  bishop  was  sometimes  very  great,  especially 
when  both  occupied  the  same  city;  but  the  same  superstitious 
regard  that  the  kings  showed  for  the  clergy  was  held  by  the  counts 
also,  and  was  likely  to  prevent  them  from  violating  the  undoubted 
privileges  of  bishops  and  abbots.  When  engaged  in  an  actual 
struggle  over  immediate  questions  of  authority,  the  counts,  like 
the  later  emperors,  were  likely  to  lose  their  reverence;    but  when 


172  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

an  actual  struggle  was  not  going  on,  religious  awe  was  felt  by 
the  most  reckless  of  them,  and  an  immunity  recognized  in  sober 
moments  would  be  taken  as  a  matter  of  course  later  on.  The 
lay  nobles  enjoyed  none  of  these  advantages  with  either  authority. 
Only  in  the  case  of  special  favorites  or  in  return  for  special  ser- 
vices would  the  kings  care  to  grant  them  immunities;  and  when 
they  were  granted,  if  the  royal  power  could  not  control  the  counts, 
the  immunity  meant  only  the  legalization  of  an  independence 
which  the  lord  of  the  domain  was  able  to  maintain  against  the 
count  by  his  own  unaided  efforts. 

It  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  the  immunity  had  no  influence 
in  developing  the  feudal  system.  In  an  age  when  so  much  impor- 
tance was  attached  to  custom,  the  mere  shadow  of  royal  authority 
would  for  a  long  time  restrain  the  counts,  even  when  the  latter 
had  become  the  most  powerful  seigneurs  in  their  districts;  and 
it  is  undoubtedly  true  that  immunities  were  frequently  respected 
by  counts  whom  the  king  could  not  prevent  from  acting  as 
local  tyrants.  In  so  far  as  this  was  the  case,  the  action  of  the 
kings  strengthened  the  growing  power  of  the  domanial  lords  at 
the  expense  of  the  counts,  and  hastened  the  development  that 
was  going  on  anyhow.  It  also  hastened  the  disintegration  of 
the  monarchy;  for  the  nominal  support  received  by  the  kings 
from  the  counts  was  weakened,  and  the  last  vestiges  of  the  ad- 
ministrative system  were  destroyed.  But  it  only  helped  on  these 
movements;  it  neither  started  nor  consummated  them.  The 
domains  had  become  the  real  political  units,  and  the  traditions 
received  from  the  Romans  could  not  permanently  hold  them 
together  in  a  larger  political  society. 

The  counts  finally  came  to  be  simply  powerful  domanial  lords 
like  their  neighbors,  having  practically  no  real  authority  save  that 
which  their  resources  gave  them.  If  they  were  more  powerful 
than  others,  it  was  simply  because  they  had  larger  and  better 
organized  estates.  By  reason  of  their  possession  of  a  large  share 
of  the  old  imperial  domain  which  they  had  been  able  to  hold  suc- 
cessfully against  their  weak  masters,  they  were  usually  among 
the  most  powerful  seigneurs,  but  they  received  no  support  from 


THE  ORGANIZATION  OF  AGRICULTURE  173 

the  central  authority.  The  king  himself  became  a  simple  seign- 
eur, and  had  little  more  real  authority  than  the  possession 
of  his  domains  gave  him.  The  efforts  of  Charlemagne  to  re- 
organize the  countships  proved  ineffectual.  He  intended  that 
the  counts  should  thereafter  be  checked  by  a  set  of  royal  ofl&cials 
who  should  visit  the  various  districts  at  frequent  intervals.  But 
the  possession  of  the  power  with  which  the  king  had  to  clothe 
the  counts  in  order  to  enable  them  to  discharge  their  duties,  a 
power  derived  from  their  control  of  vast  domains,  soon  enabled 
them  to  make  their  office  hereditary.  As  shown  in  the  discussion 
of  the  Italian  countships,  the  only  men  who  could  maintain  their 
authority  were  the  men  who  controlled  the  largest  local  estates; 
and  these  men  could  exercise  that  authority  independent  of  the 
king's  support.  The  latter  could  never  collect  an  army  to  dis- 
possess them.  If  he  had  succeeded  in  removing  any  of  them, 
the  men  installed  in  their  places  would  immediately  have  become 
as  independent  as  their  predecessors  had  been. 

The  scheme  for  supervising  and  checking  the  counts  did  not 
work,  for  the  king  could  command  neither  the  administrative 
ability  nor  the  resources  that  would  enable  him  to  touch  all  parts 
of  his  dominions  at  the  same  time,  as  the  Roman  emperors  had 
done.  The  Carolingian  counts  started  off  with  less  jurisdic- 
tional authority  than  those  of  the  Merovingian  period  had  pos- 
sessed; for  Charles  recognized  the  principle  of  immunity  as  gen- 
eral, and  did  not  expect  his  agents  to  interfere  with  the  internal 
affairs  of  the  domains.*  The  feudal  principle  was  so  far  recog- 
nized that  it  was  impossible  for  the  CaroUngians  to  check  its 
further  development.  The  family  wars  of  the  descendants  of 
Charles  obliged  them  to  seek  the  aid  of  their  semi-independent 
subjects,  and  further  concessions  had  to  be  made  until  the  royal 
authority  was  wrecked.  The  accession  of  Otho  to  the  imperial 
crown  in  962  marked  a  recognition  of  the  feudal  principle  in  its 
entirety.  The  dissolution  of  the  artificial  social  bond  which  had 
held  Europe  together  since  the  conquests  of  Clovis  facilitated 
the  formation,  in  the  interior  of  Christendom,  of  a  vast  number  of 

'  CapUtdary  of  810,  xvii;  of  813,  xi. 


174  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

small  groups  of  domains  left  free  to  work  out  their  own  problems.* 
"No  one  thought  of  common  defense  or  wide  organization:  the 
strong  built  castles,  the  weak  became  their  bondsmen  or  took 
refuge  under  the  cowl:  the  governor — count,  abbot,  or  bishop — 
tightened  his  grasp,  turned  a  delegated  into  an  independent,  a 
personal  into  a  territorial,  authority,  and  hardly  owned  a  distant 
and  feeble  suzerain."* 

Feudalism,  however,  was  not  entirely  lacking  in  substitutes 
for  the  wrecked  administrative  system.  It  furnished  an  arrange- 
ment by  which  society  was  held  together  in  a  nominal  way 
and  kept  from  falling  altogether  into  political  anarchy.  The 
system  of  benefice  and  patronage  preserved  some  measure  of 
solidarity,  and  in  times  of  special  need  enabled  the  people  to  come 
together  with  some  organized  force.  The  two  institutions  of 
benefice  and  patronage  were  correlative.  The  man  who  passed 
under  the  control  of  another  passed  under  patronage;  he  became 
a  vassal  of  that  other.  He  did  this  by  commending  himself  to  the 
more  powerful  man  whose  protection  he  sought.  In  surrender- 
ing himself  to  another  he  surrendered  his  domains  as  well.  He 
received  his  lands  back  again,  and  managed  them  as  before;  but 
they  were  now  subject  to  certain  services  and  duties.  Personal 
liberty  and  allodial  property  were  alike  surrendered  in  such  cases ; 
but  in  most  of  the  ordinary  affairs  of  life  no  change  could  be  ob- 
served in  the  activities  of  the  vassal  or  the  conduct  of  his  domains. 
He  had  simply  pledged  himself  and  his  resources  to  another,  when 
his  assistance  might  be  required  by  that  superior,  and  had 
received  assurance  of  protection  from  a  more  powerful  noble. 
"Men  submitted  themselves  to  one  another  by  a  series  of  recom- 
mendations. By  a  series  of  acts  of  benefice  the  lands  likewise 
came  to  be  placed  in  a  hierarchy  one  to  another. "^ 

The  cause  of  this  system  has  already  been  mentioned  in  the 
discussion  of  Italian  feudalism.  It  grew  out  of  the  needs  of  in- 
dustrial and  military  life.     The  lord  who  possessed  a  very  small 

'  Sismondi,  op.  cit.,  I,  8i,  82. 

»  Bryce,  op.  cU.,  79. 

3  Coulanges,  Systhme,  336. 


THE  ORGANIZATION  OF  AGRICULTURE  175 

domain  would  be  unable  to  defend  himself  against  aggressive 
neighbors.  He  would  conclude  that  it  would  be  better  to  hold 
his  lands  subject  to  the  duties  of  vassalage  than  to  have  them 
wrested  from  him  altogether.  On  the  other  hand,  the  powerful 
noble  who  held  many  very  large  or  scattered  domains  would  find 
it  impossible  to  control  all  of  them.  He  would  rather  grant 
some  of  them  to  a  weak  neighbor  in  return  for  the  promise  of 
assistance  in  time  of  need  than  have  them  become  altogether 
unprofitable  to  him.  So  the  kings  found  it  more  profitable  to 
grant  their  extensive  domains  to  their  counts  and  dukes  in  bene- 
fice, in  return  for  the  doubtful  advantage  of  their  oaths  of  fidelity, 
than  to  attempt  to  hold  them  against  men  who  seemed  likely  to 
get  them  anyhow.  By  the  time  of  the  Saxon  emperors,  practically 
the  whole  of  Europe  was  organized  on  this  system  of  vassalage. 
The  Carolingian  empire  was  intended  to  be  an  administrative 
system;  the  Ottonian  empire  was  organized  on  this  basis  of 
fidelity  and  protection. 

The  strength  of  the  feudal  bond  was  not  very  great,  but  it  was 
worth  something  for  society.  It  helped  to  keep  aHve  the  sense 
of  soHdarity  and  provided  a  means  of  co-operation  when  special 
emergencies  arose.  The  only  real  sovereigns  were  the  lords  of 
domains,  but  these  were  so  united  in  a  loose  hierarchical  order 
that,  partly  from  a  sense  of  obhgation,  partly  by  coercion,  a  gen- 
eral regulating  system  was  maintained,  so  far  as  the  external 
relations  of  the  domains  to  one  another  were  concerned.  Within 
the  domain  the  lord  was  supreme.  When  the  pubhc  functionaries 
were  forbidden  to  enter  the  domains,  the  proprietors  found  them- 
selves the  only  possible  judges.  Therefore,  they  either  acted  in 
that  capacity  themselves  or  appointed  agents  from  among  the 
men  of  the  domains.*  The  slaves  had  always  been  under  the 
jurisdiction  of  the  master;  now  all  classes  on  the  domains  were 
in  the  same  position.  The  proprietor  of  the  soil  became  the 
sovereign  of  all  the  men  attached  to  the  soil,  and  was  governed 
in  his  dealings  with  them  only  by  the  customs  that  had  grown  up 
and  by  the  interests  of  cultivation.     He  was  an  absolute  monarch. 

I  Ibid.,  417,  418. 


176  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

The  public  authority  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  organization.  The 
domains  were  sustained  by  their  own  force.  The  independence 
of  the  local  proprietor  was  not  the  product  of  the  immunities,  as 
Fustel  de  Coulanges  is  rather  inclined  to  assert,  but  the  im- 
munities arose  when  the  independence  of  the  local  proprietor 
had  been  largely  developed.  If  in  Germany  the  domanial  system 
developed  from  below — was  the  outgrowth  or  degradation  of  a 
free  tribal  system — the  conditions  in  the  feudal  period  were  the 
same  as  in  Gaul,  where  it  had  been  organized  from  above — was 
the  result  of  the  appropriation  of  villas  by  the  conquerors  as 
chiefs,  acting  in  harmony  with  a  central  government.  Through- 
out, the  system  was  created,  not  by  calculation,  as  Clovis  and 
Charlemagne  had  thought  a  social  organization  could  be  pro- 
duced, but  by  necessary  and  natural  growth.  The  mediaeval 
period  was  characterized  by  this  formation  of  communities  be- 
neath the  State.  The  State  could  later  take  advantage  of  the 
results  of  this  unconscious  social  development  and  bring  itself  to 
correspond  to  the  community  formed  independent  of  it.  Thus, 
the  State  disintegrated  and  conformed  to  the  agricultural  com- 
munities. Later,  with  the  development  of  commerce,  new  com- 
munities which  were  not  consciously  recognized  in  the  existing 
political  structure  sprang  up,  and  the  political  organization 
tended  to  conform  to  these  new  economic  communities.  The 
feudal  system  was  nothing  but  an  expression  of  the  agricultural 
organization  of  the  times.  From  agricultural  independence  arose 
political  independence:  hence  the  struggle  between  the  seigneurs 
and  the  crown.  In  these  struggles  the  lords  were  uniformly 
successful. 

In  perfecting  the  agricultural  organization,  the  ecclesiastical 
and  royal  domains  served  as  models  to  the  smaller  lay  proprietors. 
At  first,  the  monasteries  were  more  important  than  the  secular 
or  even  episcopal  lords  as  organizers  of  agriculture.  They  de- 
pended more  on  rational  organization  than  on  personal  power, 
and  were  anxious  to  follow  the  methods  which  the  Romans  had 
employed.  The  monasteries  usually  established  themselves  on 
waste  lands,  for  the  prime  object  of  the  monks  was  retirement. 


THE  ORGANIZATION  OF  AGRICULTURE  177 

After  the  invasions,  they  had  no  difficulty  in  finding  waste  lands 
even  in  regions  which  had  been  most  highly  cultivated.  But 
the  company  had  to  maintain  itself,  and  also  carried  on  manual 
labor  for  penance  and  disciphne.  Great  saints  could  live  holy 
lives  as  hermits;  but  when  masses  of  men  were  gathered  together, 
though  they  had  come  because  of  an  impulse  to  lead  Uves  of  holy 
reflection,  it  became  necessary  for  the  leaders  to  lay  down  rules 
for  practical  activity.  The  poverty  from  which  many  of  the 
monks  came,  the  reverence  of  the  Church  for  the  Son  of  the  Car- 
penter, and  the  necessity  of  labor  for  means  of  subsistence,  all 
combined  to  give  manual  labor  a  high  moral  value  in  the  monas- 
teries. Accordingly,  the  monastic  rules,  all  modeled  more  or 
less  after  the  Benedictine,  enjoined  the  duty  of  manual  labor 
as  a  moral  disciphne.^  Not  only  did  the  monasteries  reclaim 
waste  lands  and  bring  about  the  most  complete  organization  of 
agriculture,  but  they  kept  up  many  crafts  as  well,  and  were  the 
chief  agency  by  which  the  arts  were  preserved.  Laboring  for 
the  sake  of  disciphne,  for  the  good  of  the  order,  and  for  the  benefit 
of  the  poor  and  the  pilgrim,  their  industry  was  more  productive 
than  that  of  the  best-managed  secular  manors;  and  the  monas- 
teries first  produced  a  surplus  that  could  form  the  basis  of  com- 
merce. From  the  sixth  to  the  tenth  centuries  the  monks  were  the 
chief  agency  in  the  extension  of  the  agricultural  organization,  as 
well  as  the  most  effective  disseminators  of  religion,  in  the  more 
backward  parts  of  Europe,  and  doubtless  had  much  to  do  with 
the  introduction  of  uniform  methods  of  cultivation  in  sections 
where  the  Roman  influence  was  never  felt.  The  first  duty  of  the 
Benedictine  was  always  to  cultivate  the  land. 

As  the  monasteries  grew  wealthier,  a  revolution  came  in  the 
management  of  their  internal  affairs.  Neighboring  lords  would 
give  them  vast  domains  in  return  for  prayers.  The  Merovingian 
kings  were  especially  favorable  to  the  monasteries,  granting  them 
estates  from  the  royal  domain,  immuning  them  from  the  juris- 
diction of  the  counts,  and  exempting  their  commerce  from  tolls. 
With  the  new  domains  came  villeins  whose  labor  was  necessary 

»  RegtdcB  S.  Benedict.,  xlviii. 


178  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

to  make  the  lands  worth  anything.  The  humblest  of  the  monas- 
teries had  to  become  manorial  seigneurs.  The  wealthier  were 
also  finding  a  way  to  divide  labor  and  make  some  members  of 
the  community  mere  laborers.  By  the  time  the  feudal  system 
was  well  developed,  the  division  of  labor  among  the  brethren 
was  pretty  well  advanced.  The  lettered  monks  devoted  them- 
selves to  pious  exercises  and  liberal  studies,  while  the  convers,  or 
lay  brethren,  had  to  give  themselves  to  manual  labor  in  the  fields 
and  workshops.  By  a  fiction,  writing  and  illuminating  came  to 
be  regarded  as  manual  labor  in  compUance  with  the  rule  of  the 
order.  Ordinary  labor  ceased  to  be  held  in  high  honor,  and  the 
lay  brethren  were  reduced  to  a  state  bordering  on  serfdom.  After 
the  tenth  century  the  monasteries  did  not  differ  essentially  from 
the  secular  domains,  except  that  they  were  always  the  best  man- 
aged.* The  part  that  had  been  played  by  the  monks  as  free 
laborers,  working  for  the  good  of  their  order,  had  much  to  do  with 
the  development  of  the  best  possible  methods  of  cultivation  in  all 
parts  of  Christendom;  and  even  after  the  monks  ceased  to  be 
manual  laborers,  their  more  inteUigent  oversight  of  the  servile 
population  on  their  estates  continued  to  raise  the  standards 
of  manorial  administration.  In  this  last  respect  the  episcopal 
influence  was  nearly  as  beneficial  as  the  monastic. 

Thus  the  reHgious  organizations  which  stood  for  the  ethical 
unity  of  Christendom,  because  of  their  inabiUty  to  realize  that 
unity  in  actual  social  life,  attempted  to  realize  it  emotionally  by 
retreating  from  society.  But  in  their  retreats  they  built  up  minor 
communities  which  could  carry  on  the  essential  functions  of  life. 
In  doing  so  they  formed  self-sufficient  communities  which  were 
able  practically  to  drop  out  of  the  pohtical  society.  The  eccle- 
siastical domains  first  and  most  completely  became  self-sufficient, 
not  only  in  supplying  themselves  with  the  bare  necessaries  of 
life,  but  in  securing  a  surplus  that  could  be  used  in  providing 
many  luxuries  from  their  workshops  and  in  enabhng  many  of  the 
monks  to  devote  themselves  to  religious  and  scholarly  pursuits. 
The  highest  type  of  the  manor  is  therefore  to  be  found  imder 

I  Levasseur,  op.  cU.,  I,  144,  145. 


THE  ORGANIZATION  OF  AGRICULTURE  179 

monastic  lordship.*  But  these  self-sufficient  domains  are  chiefly 
interesting  to  us  because  they  served  as  models  for  the  agricul- 
tural organization  of  all  sections  of  Christendom. 

The  organization  of  the  royal  domains  likewise  had  a  great 
influence  on  the  organization  of  private  manors,  and  had  much 
to  do  with  the  development  of  the  great  fiefs  which  finally  broke 
down  the  royal  power.  In  all  of  the  conquered  countries,  and 
especially  in  Gaul,  the  pubUc  lands  were  very  extensive.  These 
feU  into  the  hands  of  the  barbarian  kings.  The  earUer  Merovings 
were  too  crude  to  have  much  influence  in  organizing  these  do- 
mains on  a  profitable  basis.  Those  which  were  best  managed 
were  under  the  direction  of  stewards  selected  from  among  the 
provincials.  Many  were  appropriated  by  the  Prankish  counts 
to  whose  care  they  were  intrusted.  Charlemagne  succeeded  in 
getting  possession  of  many  of  the  royal  domains,  and  carved  out 
others  from  the  Saxon  territories  which  he  brought  into  his 
empire.  He  organized  them  under  the  official  nobihty  which  he 
created.  He  brought  his  own  great  administrative  genius  to 
bear  upon  the  problems  of  manorial  organization ;  and  his  influ- 
ence in  shaping  the  development  of  Europe  was  perhaps  more 
important,  certainly  more  lasting,  through  his  domanial  organi- 
zation than  through  his  imperial  organization.  His  managers 
could  gather  together  more  men  than  the  smaller  nobles  could, 
and  thus  do  away  with  many  of  the  more  primitive  methods 
that  had  been  employed  in  the  German  parts  of  the  Prankish 
empire.  Charlemagne  used  as  his  model  the  better  managed 
estates  in  Roman  Gaul,  and  attempted  to  extend  the  methods 
there  employed  to  his  estates  on  the  borders  of  Gaul  and  in  the 
interior  of  Germany.  His  influence  on  the  agricultural  organi- 
zation was  very  great,  because  he  held  domains  in  all  sections  of 
his  vast  empire  and  made  available  to  the  more  backward  locaH- 
ties  the  results  of  the  experience  of  the  most  advanced.  Re- 
gardful only  of  the  immediate  interests  of  the  royal  domains, 
Charles  did  not  foresee  that  he  was  simply  laying  the  foundation 
of  the  power  of  the  official  managers  who  were  soon  to  appropri- 

»  Cf.  Gu^rard,  Polyptygue  d'Irmnon,  I,  648  ff. 


l8o  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

ate  the  royal  domains  to  their  own  uses.  With  an  interest  in 
the  commerce  that  he  was  trying  to  develop,  he  was  yet  unable  to 
stimulate  a  real  circulation  of  commodities.  The  important 
commodities,  nearly  everything  except  a  few  luxuries,  were  still 
produced  on  the  domains;  so  that,  when  he  desired  to  increase 
the  manufactures  of  his  empire,  there  was  nothing  for  him  to 
do  except  encourage  the  manorial  industries.  His  domanial 
policy,  therefore,  simply  contributed  to  the  greater  independence 
and  self-sufficiency  of  the  domains.* 

Nevertheless,  his  efforts  to  improve  the  royal  domains,  though 
their  outcome  was  quite  other  than  he  would  have  desired,  were 
of  greater  benefit  to  the  various  populations  of  his  empire  than 
many  of  his  most  important  acts  of  statesmanship;  for  when 
the  darkest  days  came  the  domains  were  prepared  to  stand  alone 
in  every  respect.  The  crown  lands  were  scattered  everywhere, 
and  the  methods  which  had  been  carried  by  Charlemagne's  order 
from  the  better  domains  of  the  Romanic  regions  could  soon  be 
introduced  by  the  great  landowners  of  the  various  sections. 

Thus  the  ecclesiastical  and  royal  domains  served  as  models 
for  the  organization  of  the  other  domains  in  whose  neighborhood 
they  were  situated.  The  semi-intensive  cultivation  employed 
on  those  domains,  and  their  production  of  all  necessaries  of  life 
within  the  manorial  community,  made  it  desirable  to  have  a  con- 
siderable number  of  laborers  on  every  domain.  It  therefore  be- 
came more  and  more  necessary  to  combine  very  small  domains 
with  larger  ones.  So  the  small  holders  commended  themselves 
to  their  more  powerful  neighbors,  and  the  holders  of  scattered 
domains  exchanged  estates  in  order  to  get  their  possessions 
under  control.  Then,  when  closely  affiliated  manors  were  not 
individually  entirely  self-sufficient,  their  inhabitants  could  never- 

'  Charlemagne's  order  was:  "  Ut  unusquisque  judex  in  suo  ministerio  bonos 
habeat  artifices,  id  est,  fabros  ferrarios  et  aurifices,  vel  argentarios,  sutores,  tor- 
natores,  carpentarios,  scutatores,  precatores,  accipitares,  id  est,  ancellatores, 
saponarios,  siceratores,  id  est,  qui  cervisiam  vel  pomatium  vel  piratium  vel  aliud 
quodcunque  liquamen  ad  bibendiun  aptum  fuerit  facere  sciant,  pistores  qui  simi- 
las  ad  opus  nostrum  faciant,  retiatores  qui  retia  facere  bene  sciant  tam  ad  venan- 
dimi,  necnon  et  reliquos  ministeriales  quos  ad  nximerandum  longum  est." — 
Capitulary  de  villis,  xlv. 


THE  ORGANIZATION  OF  AGRICULTURE  i8i 

theless  supply  their  needs.  Accumulation  of  wealth  consisted 
in  gathering  together  workers  rather  than  products.  These 
workers  could  be  politically  controlled  because  they  could  work 
only  in  small  communities;  and  the  feudal  system  meant  the 
political  organization  based  on  relatively  small  agricultural 
communities. 

Conclusion. — The  interest  of  the  lords  in  the  organization  of 
their  domains  only  went  so  far  as  the  gathering-together  of  the 
laborers  and  the  organization  of  police  systems.  The  lords  were 
interested  in  war  and  politics,  not  in  methods  of  industry.  Though 
they  were  indissolubly  connected  with  the  manorial  system,  the 
work  of  industrial  development  went  on  without  their  supervision. 
The  lords  lost  the  immediate  control  of  the  agriculturists  after 
the  organization  of  the  domains  had  been  completed.  The  lands 
were  broken  up  and  given  to  men  in  tenure  in  return  for  services 
and  products.  Demesne  lands  were  no  longer  worked  by  personal 
slaves.  The  estates  were  managed  by  ministerials  who  arose 
from  the  villein  class.  These  supervisors  became  practically 
independent,  except  that  they  had  to  turn  over  a  certain  product 
to  the  lord.  And  the  serfs  became  practically  independent  of 
the  ministerials,  except  that  they  had  to  meet  the  requirements 
under  which  they  held  their  tenures.  The  men  were  still  under 
the  legal  control  of  their  lord,  but  their  condition  within  their 
industry  was  practically  free.  They  could  not  leave  the  manor, 
nor  could  they  neglect  to  render  to  the  lord  the  designated  prod- 
ucts and  services;  but  the  products  of  their  own  tenures  were 
their  own,  and  they  could  conduct  their  industries  as  they  pleased. 
All  slavery  disappeared.  Proprietorship  in  the  soil  involved 
control  of  the  men  who  were  attached  to  the  soil,  but  that  control 
was  political  rather  than  economic.  The  returns  to  the  lord 
took  the  shape  of  rents  and  taxes,  rather  than  the  exactions  of  a 
master  of  slaves.  The  small  size  of  the  domain  gave  the  despotic 
lord  scope  for  tyranny;  but  it  was  not  to  his  interest  to  change 
the  methods  of  cultivation.  We  may  readily  believe  that  the  serf 
was  practically  as  free  in  conducting  the  ordinary  activities  of 
his  life  as  is  the  freeman  under  a  despotic  government. 


l82  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

The  individual  could  not  stand  altogether  alone  in  his  indus- 
trial activity,  because  he  could  not  function  for  society  as  a  whole. 
As  in  the  moral  sphere  the  Church  had  to  mediate  between  the 
individual  and  the  ideal,  so  in  the  economic  life  the  institution, 
in  this  case  the  manor,  had  to  mediate  between  the  individual 
and  the  ideal  of  free  co-operative  activity  in  economic  produc- 
tion. The  individual  could  be  free;  but  only  within  the  institu- 
tion which  possessed  the  ideal.  He  was  held  within  the  manor, 
as  a  later  class  of  workers  was  to  find  its  freedom  only  within  the 
gild.  Only  when  the  manor  should  no  longer  be  the  essential 
economic  institution  could  that  freedom  come  to  have  a  larger  con- 
tent. As  the  individual  has  come  to  function  for  a  larger  and  larg- 
er community,  his  individuality  has  widened.  But  in  the  freeing 
of  the  laborer's  technique  from  the  control  of  a  privileged  class 
of  society,  the  real  basis  was  laid  for  an  individuality  such  as  had 
never  been  known  in  ancient  society.  In  antiquity  the  workers 
had  been  controlled  as  to  their  methods  by  efficient  entrepreneurs, 
and  the  more  valuable  part  of  their  product  passed  entirely  be- 
yond their  control  as  consumers.  In  the  Middle  Ages  the  tech- 
nique was  entirely  under  the  control  of  the  workers  themselves, 
and  the  product,  while  scant  and  coarse,  was  equitably  divided 
between  them  and  the  military  and  political  classes.  The  for- 
mation of  the  manors  and  the  transition  from  slavery  to  serfdom 
must  therefore  be  regarded  as  one  of  the  greatest  revolutions 
society  has  ever  experienced.  Beside  this  vital  and  growing 
freedom  secured  under  feudalism,  the  legal  freedom  of  the  artisans 
of  antiquity  must  be  regarded    as   little  above  actual  slavery,* 

I  "La  {6oda.]it6  attaqua  et  d^tmisit  la  liberty  individuelle  des  artisans,  et, 
en  les  soiimettant  tons  k  la  loi  du  servage,  elle  en  fit  des  hommes  de  corps  ou  de 
poteste.  Mais  elle  d^tmisit  aussi  I'esclavage  qui,  pendant  toute  la  periode  romaine, 
avait  fl^tri  de  son  contact  les  artisans  libres  et  d&honor^  le  travail,  et  que  les  Ger- 
mains,  aprfes  la  conqufite,  avaient  accept^  et  conserv6  pendant  plusieurs  sibcles. 
L'^galit^  dans  le  servage  pr^para  les  hommes  h.  I'^galit^  civile  et  k  la  liberty.  D^jk, 
sous  l*6troite  d^pendance  dans  laquelle  les  tenjiit  le  seigneur,  ils  travaillaient, 
amassaient  jouissaient,  du  moins  de  leur  vivant,  d'une  partie  des  revenus  de  leur 
Industrie  comme  d'une  propri^t^  legitime.  Bient6t  mdme  ils  purent  avec  leurs 
6:onomies  acheter  1 'exemption  de  quelques  servitudes,  fixer  les  limites  de  leur 
obeissance  et  &;happer  k  I'arbitraire  de  leur  maltre.     Quelques-uns  enfin,  plus 


THE  ORGANIZATION  OF  AGRICULTURE  183 

In  the  foregoing  discussion  the  development  of  the  freedom 
of  the  serfs  is  attributed  to  the  fact  that  the  industrial  processes 
could  not  be  controlled  by  barbarian  society;  that  is,  it  came 
about  by  the  development  of  the  manorial  system.  While  this 
economic  development  was  the  main  cause,  one  other  important 
factor  must  not  be  overlooked,  namely,  the  teaching  of  the  Church. 
The  influence  of  the  Church  has  frequently  been  overestimated 
in  discussions  of  this  subject.  The  Church  was  powerless  to 
change  servdle  conditions  in  the  organized  society  in  which  it 
first  worked.  It  would  have  been  impossible  for  the  Church  to 
exert  any  such  influence  in  barbarian  society  but  for  the  conditions 
already  described.  The  doctrine  of  the  Church  concerning  the  value 
of  the  individual  was,  as  we  have  seen,  expressed  only  emotionally. 
In  explicit  teaching  the  Church  took  the  position  that  slaves  should 
submissively  remain  slaves  until  the  coming  of  the  Lord,  or  until 
the  future  Hfe  was  entered.  But  when  the  Church  was  practically 
engaged  in  dealing  with  individuals,  its  influence  always  tended 
to  ameliorate  the  condition  of  the  slaves.  Christianity  taught 
that  both  master  and  slave  were  to  be  judged  by  one  law  and  that 
a  slave  might  be  adjudged  superior  to  his  master  for  all  eternity. 
This  belief  had  equal  hold  upon  the  minds  of  both  masters  and 
slaves.  Marriage  was  regarded  as  sacred  for  slaves  as  for  free- 
men. It  took  place  in  the  church  under  the  blessing  of  the  priest. 
The  slave  could  enter  the  priesthood  and  might  rise  to  high  posi- 
tion. Masters  were  encouraged  to  enfranchise  their  slaves  under 
promise  of  future  blessings.  This  doctrine  of  the  spiritual  equal- 
ity of  all  men  had  considerable  influence  in  curbing  the  barbari- 
an lords,  even  though  it  could  not  do  away  with  slavery  at  once. 
The  Church  did  not  demand  the  enfranchisement  of  slaves,  both 
because  such  a  revolution  was  practically  impossible,  and  because 
the  important  thing  with  the  Church  was  not  human  equality 
here,  but  a  complete  realization  of  the  brotherly  relation  in  the 
New  Jerusalem. 

heureux  que  les  autres,  entrferent  dans  les  cadres  de  la  feodalit^,  et  acquirent 
par  leur  travail  des  droits  f^daux  analogues  k  ceux  que  donnait  la  piopri6t6 
territoriale. " — Levasseur,  op.  cit.,  I,  170,  171. 


l84  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

A  further  result  of  the  teaching  of  the  Church  was  a  change 
in  the  view  taken  of  labor.  Labor  was  given  a  dignity  unknown 
before.  The  disciples  of  Jesus  never  wholly  forgot  that  the  founder 
of  their  faith  had  been  a  carpenter;  and  the  value  of  manual 
labor  as  a  disciphne  was  also  recognized.  But  when  all  this 
is  said  it  must  still  be  remembered  that  the  most  the  Church 
could  do  was  to  hold  up  an  ideal  of  personal  worth  which  could 
moderate  the  spirit  of  masters  and  assure  a  fair  observance  of 
custom  in  the  management  of  their  domains.  Directly,  the 
Church  was  neither  anxious  nor  able  to  disturb  the  status  of 
any  class.  Only  the  application  of  Christian  principles  in  detail 
and  the  reciprocal  action  of  the  pohtical  and  economic  move- 
ments we  have  traced,  could  elevate  the  slave  to  serfdom  and 
prepare  him  for  freedom. 

When  the  agricultural  organization  was  completed  with  the 
full  development  of  feudalism,  the  various  little  communities 
into  which  society  had  broken  were  each  capable  of  supplying 
practically  all  of  the  wants  of  their  members.  Commerce  was 
extinct,  except  in  a  few  sacred  relics,  some  furnishings  for  the 
churches,  a  few  articles  of  luxury  which  passed  through  the  hands 
of  the  Jews,  and,  in  some  sections,  iron  and  salt.  The  only  ex- 
change of  importance  went  on  within  the  manors.  Money  was 
not  needed  and  did  not  circulate.  A  period  of  darkness  which 
caused  men  to  think  the  world  must  soon  come  to  an  end 
extended  from  the  time  of  Charlemagne  to  the  eleventh  or  twelfth 
century.  But  this  was  really  a  period  of  reconstruction.  The 
agricultural  system  was  being  developed ;  the  very  system  which 
seemed  responsible  for  this  disintegration  was  furnishing  the 
remedy.  A  surplus  was  soon  to  be  produced  on  the  domains, 
which  would  cause  the  reopening  of  the  channels  of  communi- 
cation and  the  reorganization  of  the  civilized  world.  Until  this 
surplus  should  be  produced,  the  unity  of  Europe  could  be  found 
only  in  its  ideals,  and  but  little  could  come  of  the  impulse  toward 
social  organization  found  in  the  conception  of  the  Carolingian 
empire.  Europe  had  exhausted  the  wealth  received  from  the 
Romans,  and  now  had  to  wait  for  the  development  of  the  agri- 


THE  ORGANIZATION  OF  AGRICULTURE  185 

cultural  and  other  industrial  processes  before  the  larger  social 
life  could  be  realized.  Within  the  domains  the  manorial  indus- 
tries supplied  every  want;  but  as  the  peasants  became  able  to 
produce  a  surplus  from  the  fields,  more  persons  could  be  with- 
drawn from  agricultural  work  to  engage  in  the  simple  manu- 
factures of  the  community.  Thus  there  was  produced  not  only 
a  surplus  of  raw  materials  that  could  be  exchanged  for  manu- 
factured commodities  produced  elsewhere  but  a  surplus  of  coarse 
manufactures  that  could  be  exchanged  for  the  finer  goods  brought 
by  merchants  from  the  South  and  East.  The  real  basis  of  a 
general  European  trade  seems  to  have  been  the  coarse  cloth  of 
northern  Europe,  which  was  taken  up  by  the  Italians  to  be  worked 
over;  but  this  coarse  cloth  was  the  result  of  a  surplus  produced 
under  the  domanial  economy.  When  the  surplus  was  secured  and 
commercial  relations  were  re-established,  the  communities  of 
Europe  became  interdependent  again.  Then,  the  mediaeval  agri- 
cultural organization  was  broken  down,  and  with  it  the  feudal 
system,  and  a  larger  unit  formed,  more  nearly  corresponding  to 
the  larger  economic  community.  And  when  wealth  no  longer  con- 
sisted in  carrying  over  the  workers,  the  latter,  except  in  a  few 
cases  of  arrested  development,  were  entirely  freed  from  the  control 
of  the  lords,  and  were  able  to  make  their  own  contracts  through 
gilds.  Manorial  services  and  returns  were  commuted  for  money 
rents,  and  the  serf  became  a  freeman. 


CHAPTER  IV 
THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  COMMERCE 

The  next  necessity  after  that  of  intensive  cultivation  was  the 
development  of  an  exchanging  system  by  which  products  could  be 
transferred  and  placed  at  the  disposal  of  the  whole  community. 
Society  had  disintegrated  only  that  it  might  find  the  means  for 
a  new  and  more  organic  integration  than  had  ever  before  been 
known.  The  reunion  of  the  scattered  fragments  of  Christendom 
was  brought  about  chiefly  through  the  agency  of  commerce. 

Commerce  did  not  immediately  disappear  when  the  Empire 
was  invaded.  From  the  second  half  of  the  third  century  the 
civil  wars,  the  enfeeblement  of  the  central  power,  and  the  incur- 
sions of  the  barbarians  greatly  reduced  the  opportunities  for  the 
exchange  of  commodities  in  the  regions  where  conmierce  had 
been  most  highly  developed  during  the  three  centuries  preceding; 
and  yet  both  on  the  Roman  roads  and  on  the  waterways  there 
remained  a  considerable  degree  of  commercial  activity  during 
the  later  years  of  the  Empire  and  the  earUer  Merovingian  period. 
Maritime  trade  continued  to  be  carried  on  from  both  the  Atlantic 
and  the  Mediterranean  ports  of  Gaul,  and  between  Italy  and  the 
East.  Many  of  the  Roman  cities  of  Gaul  survived  the  fall  of 
the  Empire  for  some  time,  and  continued  to  be  centers  of  industry 
and  commerce.  The  writings  of  Gregory  of  Tours  (died  595) 
show  that  Gaul  was  still  a  country  of  cities,  and  that  many  of 
them  were  enjoying  considerable  prosperity.* 

However,  this  condition  of  affairs  could  not  last  long.  The 
continual  wars,  the  pillaging  of  the  cities,  the  robbery  of  travel- 
ing merchants,  the  neglect  of  the  roads,  soon  caused  a  complete 
collapse  of  all  internal  commerce  in  Gaul,  though  communication 
with  the  East  was  kept  up  by  the  Mediterranean  ports  of  both 

I  Levasseiir,  op.  cit.,  I,  153-56;  Pigeonneau,  op.  cit.,  I,  59-61;  Pirenne, 
Revue  historique,  LVII,  58;  Gregory  of  Tours,  Historia  Francorum,  ii,  14,  15; 
Hi,  34;   vi,   32,  41;   ix,  9,  cited  by  Pirenne  and  Pigeonneau. 

186 


THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  COMMERCE  187 

Gaul  and  Italy  until  the  Saracen  corsairs  began  to  sweep  the 
seas.  After  many  years  of  fratricidal  wars  among  the  Merovings, 
there  was  a  period  of  calm  after  Chlothar  had  got  rid  of  his  Aus- 
trasian  and  Burgundian  rivals,  and  in  628  had  left  the  rulership 
of  all  the  Prankish  realms  to  an  adult  son.  Moreover,  this  son, 
Dagobert,  associated  with  him  in  the  government  the  two  pro- 
genitors of  the  CaroHngians,  Amulf,  bishop  of  Metz,  and  Pippin. 
While  the  royal  power  was  decaying,  there  was  a  period  of  com- 
parative order,  helped  on,  perhaps,  by  the  wars  which  Dagobert 
carried  on  in  Spain  and  beyond  the  Elbe;  and  during  this  reign 
the  great  fairs  were  established  and  largely  patronized,  and  com- 
merce became  temporarily  active.  But  under  the  later  Merovings 
the  movement  toward  the  estabUshment  of  the  domanial  system  is 
sufficient  evidence  that  municipal  and  commercial  hfe  was  virtually 
extinct.  Communication  with  the  East  was  not  entirely  cut  off, 
and  some  few  of  the  arts  of  luxury  were  carried  on;  but  the 
greater  part  of  the  trades  disappeared  entirely,  while  the  workmen 
became  serfs  and  monks. 

There  was  another  temporary  revival  imder  the  earlier  Car- 
oHngians. The  order  and  internal  security  established  imder 
pressure  from  without  and  upheld  by  exceptional  rulers  made 
possible  some  degree  of  industrial  and  commercial  activity.  The 
cities  had  now  disappeared,  but  royal  atehers  were  revived  in 
connection  with  the  reorganization  of  the  agricultural  processes 
on  the  royal  domains.  These  workshops,  however,  probably 
contributed  Httle  material  for  commerce.  Commercial  relations 
were  reopened  with  England  and  the  Orient.  Oil,  wine,  cereals, 
metals,  cloth,  and  skins  were  exchanged  for  spices,  pearls,  gems, 
silks,  and  cottons.  The  opening  of  a  new  country  by  the  conquest 
of  the  Saxons  gave  an  opportunity  for  exploitation  by  merchants 
and  missionaries.'  All  the  records  of  the  period  indicate  a 
commercial  activity  such  as  had  not  been  known  for  five  centuries. 
There  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  restoration  of  order  had  led  to  a 
real  revival  of  productive  industry.  But  there  is  nevertheless  strong 
reason  for  beheving  that  a  great  deal  of  the  commercial  activity 

»  Pigeonneau,  op.  cit.,  I,  71-76. 


l88  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

was  artificial,  like  the  administration  itself.  The  exports  from 
the  Prankish  empire  were  nearly  all  raw  materials,  and  the  im- 
ports were  all  luxuries.  Such  a  trade  is  safe  only  when  a  large 
surplus  of  raw  materials  is  produced  and  when  the  home  indus- 
tries have  become  somewhat  diversified.  At  that  time  it  meant 
that  Europe  was  being  stripped  of  its  slight  surplus  of  agricul- 
tural products — made  possible  by  a  few  years  of  order — in  order 
to  gratify  the  desires  of  the  nobles  who  had  received  a  vision  of 
the  splendor  of  the  past.  Since  the  imports  were  luxuries  only, 
the  consumption  of  the  masses  could  not  become  more  diversi- 
fied, nor  was  a  stimulus  given  to  the  development  of  European 
industries.  It  was  a  period  of  artificial  commercial  activity 
based  upon  the  extravagance  of  the  nobiUty.  Had  it  been  based 
upon  real  production,  not  even  the  disorder  of  the  succeeding 
period  should  have  been  able  to  destroy  all  commerce  so  suddenly. 
If,  however,  the  domains  were  being  stripped  of  every  available 
product  to  gratify  the  ambition  of  the  great  monarch  and  his 
nobles  for  a  brilliant  reign  that  would  reproduce  the  chief  charac- 
teristics of  Rome,  it  would  be  impossible  to  keep  up  the  activity 
when  the  times  of  stress  came.  Like  the  commercial  activity 
of  Israel  under  Solomon,  when  the  country  was  exhausted  to 
gratify  the  magnificence  of  the  king,  the  prosperous  times  under 
Charlemagne  left  Europe  in  possession  of  a  few  gems  and  a  good 
deal  of  worn-out  finery,  but  with  such  a  narrow  margin  of  the 
necessaries  of  life  that  the  government  could  no  longer  maintain 
its  finances  and  the  Empire  could  not  stand  a  siege  without  being 
reduced  to  misery.  Charlemagne  certainly  did  much  for  the  devel- 
opment of  the  domanial  system,  but  the  short  period  of  partial 
quiet  was  insufficient  for  a  revolution  in  agricultural  methods. 
A  great  surplus  for  exchange  had  certainly  not  been  created. 
No  cities  were  re-established,  and  no  artisan  class  could  be 
maintained  apart  from  the  domanial  industries.  Charles  failed  to 
restore  the  currency,  and  the  precious  metals  continued  to  grow 
scarcer.  We  must  conclude  that  the  commercial  activity  of  the 
time  was  largely  artificial,  and  that  the  country  was  simply  using 
up  its   resources.     This   artificial   commerce,   like   the   artificial 


THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  COMMERCE  189 

administration,  may  have   served  to  strengthen  the  ideals  held 
by  Europe,  but  neither  had  a  permanent  value  in  itself. 

Whatever  the  value  of  the  conmierce  of  the  reign  of  Charle- 
magne, during  the  anarchy  of  the  ninth  and  tenth  centuries  com- 
merce disappeared  as  completely  as  the  imperial  government. 
The  foolish  poUcy  of  dividing  the  sovereignty  among  the  sons  of 
Louis  the  Pious,  and  especially  the  favoritism  of  that  ruler  for 
his  youngest  son,  inevitably  resulted  in  civil  wars  which  even  a 
stronger  central  power  would  have  found  difficulty  in  suppress- 
ing. And  in  the  midst  of  this  breakdown  of  the  administrative 
system  of  Charlemagne,  Christendom  was  attacked  from  with- 
out on  all  sides  at  once.  The  Danes  who  had  been  checked  by 
the  Saxons  began  to  give  Charles  trouble  as  soon  as  civihzation 
had  been  pressed  up  to  their  borders.  They  learned  the  weak- 
ness of  the  Empire  during  the  reign  of  Louis;  and  before  the 
middle  of  the  ninth  century,  they  were  scouring  all  the  northern 
and  western  coasts  of  Europe  and  were  ravaging  the  country  to 
the  headwaters  of  all  the  streams  that  flowed  into  the  sea.  For  a 
brief  period  they  forsook  the  continent  to  endeavor  to  estabhsh 
a  permanent  kingdom  in  England;  but  thwarted  in  that  pur- 
pose by  Alfred,  they  again  became  marauders  on  all  continental 
waterways,  even  penetrating  the  Rhone.  At  the  same  time, 
the  Saracens,  who  had  estabUshed  themselves  along  the  whole 
south  coast  of  the  Mediterranean,  took  to  the  sea,  and  now  as 
pirates  preyed  upon  commerce  and  ravaged  the  coasts  of  Italy, 
now  as  conquerers  estabhshed  themselves  in  Sicily  and  Bene- 
vento  and  threatened  to  overrun  the  whole  peninsula.  In  the 
East,  the  Slavs  and  Magyars  made  continual  aggressions  upon 
Bavaria  and  Saxony.  At  one  time  Saracens  from  Spain  who 
had  estabhshed  themselves  in  Provence  raided  the  whole  Rhone 
valley,  and  at  Orbe  engaged  in  battle  a  party  of  Magyars  who 
had  crossed  from  the  Danube.  Tom  by  internal  dissensions, 
attacked  from  all  quarters  by  heathen  and  infidel,  -wholly  lacking 
in  political  leadership  and  military  resources,  it  is  not  strange 
that  Europe  sank  to  a  condition  worse  than  that  of  the  worst 
Merovingian  days.     Under  these  circumstances  commercial  inter- 


I90  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

course  was  manifestly  impossible.  Nothing  of  promise  was  left 
except  the  agricultural  communities  described  in  the  last  chapter. 
The  feudal  castle  which  belonged  to  this  system  finally  proved 
the  salvation  of  Europe.  When  these  strongholds  had  been 
spread  over  the  land,  they  served  as  places  of  refuge  for  the 
people  and  efifectual  barriers  to  the  marauders.  The  Saracens 
ceased  to  give  trouble  except  on  the  Mediterranean;  the  Slavs 
and  Magyars  were  kept  in  check  and  finally  Christianized; 
and  such  of  the  Norsemen  as  did  not  find  permanent  settlements 
in  England  and  Normandy  were  obhged  to  give  up  their  pirati- 
cal descents  upon  the  coasts  of  France  and  Germany  and  settle 
down  in  their  own  countries.  Europe  obtained  security  from 
external  foes,  but  at  the  cost  of  complete  political  disintegration; 
and  the  constant  feudal  warfare  that  followed  the  establishment 
of  the  system  was,  for  a  time,  as  destructive  of  commerce  as  the 
piracy  had  been. 

PREPARATION  FOR  COMMERCE 

Now,  in  spite  of  the  disorder  which  had  troubled  Europe  from 
the  time  of  the  first  invasions,  there  was  never  a  time  when  com- 
mercial intercourse  was  entirely  wanting.  Aside  from  the  re- 
stricted exchange  in  local  spheres  of  salt  and  iron,  there  were  a 
few  feeble  movements  of  commerce  which  served  to  prepare  the 
way  for  a  renewal  of  actual  commercial  intercourse.  During 
the  whole  period  from  the  end  of  the  sixth  century  to  the  eleventh, 
the  Jews  and  certain  merchants  from  the  East  known  as  Syrians 
carried  on  a  casual  trade  in  oriental  luxuries  and  handled  about 
all  the  money  that  circulated.  The  Jews  came  into  great  pros- 
perity during  the  period  of  most  complete  disorganization.  United 
by  faith  and  by  common  traditions,  in  constant  communication 
with  their  co-reUgionists  in  Spain,  Italy,  Africa,  and  the  Orient, 
they  formed  an  organic  body  in  the  midst  of  universal  dissolu- 
tion; and  freely  employed  the  commercial  instincts  which  had 
been  developed  by  necessity  and  education.  The  very  action 
of  the  Church  upon  the  lay  society  contributed  to  their  prosperity. 
The  canons  of  the  councils  and  the  royal  capitularies  in  denying 


THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  COMMERCE  1 91 

to  Christians  the  right  to  exact  usury,  that  is,  interest  on  loans, 
assured  to  the  Jews  a  monopoly  of  the  money  business.  Through 
their  intimate  relations  with  the  Mohammedans,  who  always 
treated  the  Jews  with  a  toleration  which  they  could  never  show 
to  the  Christians,  they  were  able  to  communicate  with  the  East 
at  a  time  when.no  Christian  could  sail  upon  the  Mediterranean, 
In  some  of  the  remaining  cities  of  the  south  they  maintained 
quarters  and  were  governed  by  their  own  rulers.  The  Church 
and  the  princes  condoned  their  offenses  against  Christian  morahty 
because  their  services  as  money-lenders  and  dealers  in  valuables 
were  indispensable.  They  were  foimd  also  dispersed  through- 
out the  country,  and  on  the  domains  phed  their  trade  as  pawn- 
brokers among  the  villagers  and  brokers  for  the  lords.  The 
great  seigneurs  controlled  Jews  just  as  they  controlled  serfs. ^ 
In  England  the  Jews  belonged  to  the  king,  and  great  nobles  were 
forbidden  to  take  them  into  their  service  without  the  king's  leave.' 
But  though  the  business  of  the  Jews  was  profitable  to  them  and 
had  some  importance  as  a  stimulus  to  greater  demands  for  lux- 
uries, it  can  hardly  be  considered  a  part  of  the  commerce  of 
Europe.  Money  borrowed  from  them  at  exhorbitant  rates  was 
used  only  in  consumption.  There  was  no  such  thing  as  capital 
except  land  and  agricultural  implements;  and  the  Church  was 
justified  in  attempting  to  suppress  usury.  The  trade  carried  on 
by  the  Jews  was  in  such  commodities  as  spices,  perfumes,  silks, 
tapestries,  precious  stones,  and  jewelry,  and  was  of  little  impor- 
tance to  the  social  development  of  Europe.  In  return  for  these 
luxuries  the  Jews  gathered  up  about  all  the  coin  and  most  of  the 
gold  and  silver  ornaments  that  had  been  preserved  from  Roman 
times.  A  small  quantity  of  wine  and  oil  was  exported  from 
southern  Gaul  and  a  few  valuable  furs  from  the  northern  coun- 
tries; but  the  total  volume  of  commerce  was  of  practically 
no  economic  importance,  except  as  serving  to  cultivate  a  taste 

I  Pigeonneau,  op.  cit.,  I,  66-71,  104-7.  Cf.  Graetz,  Histoire  des  Juifs,  III, 
IV,  V,  in  loco. 

»  Law  of  Henry  II  purporting  to  have  been  established  by  William  I. — Annals 
of  Roger  de  Hoveden,  I,  553. 


192  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

for  certain  luxuries  that  was  afterward  to  lead  to  more  vital 
operations. 

Because  of  their  separation  from  the  mass  of  the  population 
and  their  tendency  to  keep  aloof  from  any  but  their  own  race, 
the  Jews  contributed  little  to  the  keeping  up  of  a  means  of 
intercourse  between  the  various  sections. 

This  latter  preparation  for  the  revival  of  commerce  was  made 
by  the  Church.  The  importance  of  magic  in  the  work  of  the 
Church  made  it  desirable  to  transport  sacred  relics  from  place 
to  place;  and  the  need  of  pictorial  services  required  the  trans- 
portation of  church  furnishings  from  Byzantium  and  Italy  to 
the  less  advanced  communities.  Thus  the  Church  kept  up  a 
certain  amount  of  commerce.  This  had  no  more  economic  signifi- 
cance than  that  carried  on  by  the  Jews,  but  it  served  to  keep 
up  communication  between  the  different  sections.  For  the  manu- 
facture of  glass  and  the  erection  of  the  earUer  buildings  artisans 
themselves  had  to  be  imported  from  the  East  and  South.  Along 
with  the  commerce  in  reUcs,  there  was  a  constant  intercommu- 
nication in  certain  sections  through  pilgrimages  to  noted  shrines. 
When  the  special  festivals  were  held  at  these  shrines  on  the  day 
set  apart  for  the  saint,  large  numbers  of  pilgrims  would  be  present 
at  the  same  time.  The  provisioning  of  such  a  company  would 
occasion  considerable  trade,  except  when  the  monasteries  were 
prepared  to  care  for  all  their  guests ;  and  even  if  provisions  could 
be  supphed  by  the  monasteries,  peddlers  and  traders  would 
naturally  join  the  pilgrims  as  soon  as  there  were  any  peddlers  and 
traders.  Sometimes  the  monks  were  themselves  traders.  Some- 
times men  would  bring  their  simple  manufactures  from  domains 
in  the  neighborhood.  Finally,  when  regular  peddlers  arose,  as 
will  be  explained  later,  they  flocked  to  such  gatherings.  In  some 
instances  the  impprtant  fairs  sprang  up  at  these  favorite  shrines. 
But,  aside  from  the  trade  which  was  carried  on  among  the  pil- 
grims, the  pilgrimages  themselves  kept  up  communication  between 
points  which  could  no  longer  come  in  touch  with  each  other 
through  their  armies.  Again,  the  Church  maintained  its  organi- 
zation much  better  than  the  Empire  did;  and  although  during 


THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  COMMERCE  193 

the  darkest  period,  at  the  close  of  the  ninth  century,  the  Church 
was  itself  very  much  disorganized,  there  was  never  a  time  when 
the  Pope  did  not  have  frequent  communication  with  the  scattered 
dioceses,  or  when  the  great  orders  did  not  maintain  their  solidarity. 
The  superstitious  awe  in  which  the  Church  was  held  made  it 
possible  for  priests  and  monks  and  messengers  and  pilgrims 
to  travel  from  place  to  place  as  neither  merchants  nor  soldiers 
could  do.  Even  the  Saracens  in  Palestine  treated  with  respect 
the  Holy  Sepulcher  and  the  pilgrims  who  visited  it,  until  fanatical 
sects  and,  later,  the  Seljuks  came  into  control  of  that  country. 
Thus  the  commerce  of  the  Church  and  the  travel  inspired 
by  the  Church  served  to  keep  open  routes  which  were  closed 
to  ordinary  travelers,  and  to  bring  into  communication 
regions  that  were  too  remote  from  one  another  for  military 
contact. 

The  episcopal  cities  were  also  centers  of  somewhat  larger 
transactions  than  those  which  took  place  on  the  ordinary  domains. 
These  places  were  not  really  cities  in  either  the  ancient  or  the 
modern  sense  of  the  word.  They  were  merely  centers  of  do- 
manial exploitation.  Since  the  bishop  and  his  attendants  did 
not  ordinarily  move  from  one  domain  to  another  to  consume 
the  products  of  each  in  turn,  as  the  lay  nobles  who  held  several 
domains  did,  the  products  of  the  surrounding  manors  belonging 
to  the  see  had  to  be  transported  to  the  residence  of  the  bishop.^ 
There  was  thus  maintained  a  kind  of  industrial  concentration 
that  might  form  the  basis  for  new  city  life.  This  activity  was 
not  commercial,  for  nothing  went  from  the  city  to  the  manors: 
it  was  simply  the  gathering  of  the  returns  of  many  manors  in  one 
place  for  the  support  of  the  clergy  and  the  small  population  that 
labored  for  the  maintenance  and  adornment  of  the  cathedral. 
In  these  various  ways  the  churches  and  monasteries  contributed 
largely  to  the  commercial  development.  But  they  simply  pre- 
pared society  for  a  revival  of  commercial  activity  by  keeping  up 
communications  and  by  furnishing  inns  for  travelers:  they  were 
not  themselves  actually  engaged  in  commerce, 

'  Pirenne,  Revue  historique,  LVII,  60-62. 


194  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

Attempts  to  study  the  development  of  commerce  have  usually 
been  imsatisfactory  because  they  have  failed  to  distinguish  be- 
tween real  commercial  activity  and  the  mere  external  mechanism 
of  ships  and  roads  and  travelers.  The  valuable  work  of  Pigeon- 
neau,  like  others  of  less  note,  does  little  more  than  give  us 
certain  clews  to  indicate  that  certain  important  movements  were 
going  on.  The  real  history  of  commerce  which  will  some 
time  be  written  will  give  some  account  of  the  production  that 
has  fed  commerce,  as  well  as  a  description  of  the  condition  of  the 
routes  and  of  some  actual  exchanges  which  indicate  that  com- 
merce has  actually  been  going  on.  The  three  phenomena  described 
in  this  section — the  commerce  stimulated  by  Charlemagne, 
the  transactions  of  the  Jews,  and  the  intercourse  kept  up 
by  the  Church — are  but  superficial.  They  do  not  indicate 
a  genuine  commercial  activity.  It  is,  however,  with  such  phe- 
nomena as  these  that  historians  of  commerce  have  largely  con- 
cerned themselves.  They  are  worthy  of  note,  but  only  as  guiding 
the  student  to  a  deeper  study  of  the  dynamical  phenomena  of 
which  these  are  but  surface  indications.  Real  commerce  repre- 
sents a  differentiation  of  function  by  which  the  diverse  parts  of 
society  come  into  complex  and  organic  relations  with  one  another. 
Such  conmierce  could  not  begin  until  the  various  local  agricul- 
tural units  into  which  Christendom  was  divided  began  to  produce 
a  surplus  of  the  necessaries  of  life  to  exchange  for  similar  sur- 
pluses produced  by  other  communities  or  for  more  highly  fin- 
ished products  from  more  advanced  communities.  The  more 
essential  the  commodities  of  exchange  become  to  all  members 
of  society,  the  more  completely  does  commercial  activity  repre- 
sent the  differentiation  of  function.  Until  that  kind  of  exchange 
became  general,  the  economic  relations  of  men  were  recognized 
only  in  terms  of  the  narrower  community  Hfe;  just  as  they  are 
today  among  low  barbarian  tribes.  There  was  no  consciousness 
of  the  larger  social  relationships  growing  out  of  the  essential 
functions  of  life.  The  Chiirch  alone  stood  for  this  consciousness 
of  relationships  which  ought  to  exist,  but  which  could  not  be 
recognized  in  the  ordinary  social  activities. 


THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  COMMERCE  IQS 

THE   BEGINNING   OF   COMMERCE 

The  developement  of  the  agricultural  organization  as  traced 
in  the  last  chapter  was  the  true  preparation  for  commerce.  By 
the  eleventh  century,  the  full  estabhshemnt  of  the  feudal  system 
and  the  cessation  of  piratical  raids  had  brought  about  a  com- 
parative peace,  while  the  increased  productivity  of  the  fields  of 
the  domains  was  making  possible  the  withdrawal  of  some  of  the 
serfs  from  the  fields  and  the  exchange  of  surplus  commodities. 
The  industry  of  the  serfs  was  producing  a  surplus  of  certain 
commodities  of  prime  necessity;  and  as  these  products  were  not 
suitable  for  export  to  distant  points  on  account  of  their  bulk,  the 
tendency  was  to  withdraw  a  greater  proportion  of  the  laborers 
from  agriculture  and  to  turn  them  to  manufacturing  for  the 
domain  to  which  they  belonged.  The  great  lords,  especially 
the  ecclesiastical  ones,  carried  over  such  remnants  of  industrial 
skill  as  could  be  found  after  the  overthrow  of  the  old  civilization. 
The  products  of  the  domain  were  used  in  the  manufacture  of 
practically  everything  consumed,  and  the  artisans  had  to  be  the 
serfs  of  the  domain.  Spinning  and  weaving  had  to  be  done 
everywhere.  The  crafts  of  the  carpenter,  miller,  smith,  and  baker 
were  plied  in  every  manorial  village.  Much  of  this  work  could, 
of  course,  be  done  by  men  who  devoted  most  of  their  time  to 
agriculture;  but  as  the  latter  industry  became  more  produc- 
tive, the  villeins  could  cultivate  less  ground  and  thus  have  more 
time  for  their  weaving,  or  some  could  withdraw  from  cultivation 
altogether  and  exchange  the  products  of  their  looms  for  the  prod- 
ucts of  their  neighbors'  fields.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  both  changes 
took  place;  but  the  latter  became  much  more  important.  If, 
as  was  the  case  on  large  domains  and  in  monasteries,  there  were 
persons  who  devoted  their  time  chiefly  to  work  in  the  atehers,  this 
class  could  be  increased  when  the  fields  began  to  produce  a  sur- 
plus. The  inhabitants  of  the  domain  could  thus  be  better  clothed, 
and  in  time  could  produce  a  surplus  of  cloth  for  exchange.  In 
the  great  monasteries  the  cloth  industry  became  very  important, 
because  their  workmen  could  first  produce  more  than  was  needed 


196  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

for  home  consumption  and  ako  because  they  were  able  most 
easily  to  exchange  their  surplus  at  the  fairs.  In  Flanders  the 
cloth  industry  developed  more  rapidly  than  in  any  other  part  of 
northern  Europe,  and  became  the  basis  of  commerce  with  the 
Italian  cities.  The  development  of  the  Flemish  woolen  manu- 
factures was  made  possible  by  the  ease  with  which  raw  wool 
could  be  secured  from  England  by  these  workmen  who  had  with- 
drawn from  agricultural  pursuits.  In  southern  France  wine  and 
oil  were  the  chief  products  of  the  domains  first  produced  for  ex- 
change. The  textile  industry  was  the  first  to  become  important 
for  commerce,  because  it  supplied  a  universal  and  almost  insati- 
able want,  and  its  product  could  be  kept  an  indefinite  time  and 
transported  to  great  distances  more  easily  than  most  other  com- 
modities. Food  products  were  in  equal  demand,  but  they  could 
not  be  transported  very  far  because  they  would  not  keep. 

A  surplus  of  the  necessaries  of  hfe  being  assured  by  the 
domanial  economy,  the  next  step  had  to  be  the  creation  of  new 
wants.  This  could  take  place  only  slowly;  for  it  meant  not  only 
the  demand  for  luxuries  on  the  part  of  the  nobles,  but  the  desire 
for  generally  better  subsistence  and  clothing  on  the  part  of  many 
of  the  lower  classes.  The  development  of  new  desires  could  go 
on  gradually  and  naturally,  because  the  increased  supply  came 
so  gradually.  A  sudden  increase  in  the  resources  of  the  nobility 
without  a  corresponding  increase  in  the  independence  and  eco- 
nomic power  of  the  producing  classes  would  have  resulted  in 
such  an  abnormal  kind  of  production  as  had  existed  in  Greece 
and  Rome  in  the  days  of  their  greatest  prosperity.  As  it  was, 
although  the  luxuries  brought  to  the  nobles  from  the  Orient  had 
much  to  do  with  the  development  of  new  wants,  the  economic 
demand  was  nearly  universal  because  the  men  who  were  giving 
more  and  more  of  their  time  to  the  production  of  new  commod- 
ities were  freed  from  old  feudal  obhgations  and  advanced  to  a 
superior  economic  and  social  position.  Indeed,  after  the  towns 
were  estabHshed,  the  chief  economic  demand  came  from  the 
town  populations  and  not  from  the  nobles.  The  museums  of 
Europe  still  show  us  how  superior  were  the  furnishings,  clothing, 


THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  COMMERCE  197 

and  weapons  of  the  burghers  to  those  of  the  feudal  aristocracy 
with  whom  they  contended.  On  every  domain  the  work  of  black- 
smiths, carpenters,  masons,  armorers,  shoemakers,  wheelwrights, 
saddlers,  etc.,  became  more  and  more  important  and  more  and 
more  speciahzed.  The  men  who  followed  these  trades  were  able 
to  give  up  the  cultivation  of  the  fields  and  to  receive  Uberal  com- 
pensation from  their  lords  and  the  peasants  of  their  domains 
for  their  services.  Frequently  the  artisans  were  able  to  hold 
their  positions  as  fiefs  which  remained  in  their  famiHes  for  several 
generations.^  The  lords  received  from  their  own  artisans  many 
of  these  new  commodities,  which  were  fast  becoming  necessaries, 
while  other  products  could  be  exchanged  for  finer  commodities 
brought  from  the  South  and  East.  Raw  materials  could  also  be 
exchanged  by  the  peasants,  since  the  danger  of  famine  no  longer 
made  it  so  necessary  to  keep  a  surplus  on  hand.  Thus  the  peas- 
ants were  able  to  sell  a  litttle  grain  or  wine  or  oil  or  homespun 
cloth;  and  since  the  lord  no  longer  cared  for  returns  in  kind  and 
was  very  anxious  to  secure  ready  money  to  satisfy  his  increasing 
desires,  he  was  glad  to  commute  the  old  manorial  services  and 
dues  for  money  rents.  This  tendency  was  most  marked  where 
the  industrial  movement  was  most  advanced.  By  the  thirteenth 
centur}'  serfdom  had  disappeared  from  Flanders,  Normandy, 
Picardy,  Artois,  and  the  greater  part  of  Orleans  and  the  Isle  de 
France.'  Every  step  forward  by  the  industial  classes  led  to 
increased  production. 

In  the  episcopal  cities  the  same  industrial  activity  was  found. 
These  cities,  as  has  been  stated,  were  but  the  centers  of  doma- 
nial exploitation.  Since  the  bishop  and  his  attendants  remained 
permanently  located  in  one  place,  many  of  the  industries  car- 
ried on  on  the  domains  had  to  be  transferred  to  the  episcopal 
residence.  These  places  were  not  cities,  but  they  were  centers 
of  greater  activity  than  any  of  the  ordinary  domains,  both  because 
they  were  centers  for  many  neighboring  domains  and  because 
the  demands  of  the  bishop  were  greater  than  those  of  any  ordi- 

'  Levasseur,  op.  cU.,  I,  113-16,  167-69. 
»  Pigeonneau,  op.  cit.,  I,  171,  172. 


198  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

nary  lay  nobleman.  Provisions  had  to  be  carried  to  the  city 
from  the  domains  belonging  to  the  see  for  the  support  of  the 
numerous  population  assembled  about  the  cathedral;  and  the 
aggregate  amount  of  industry  in  the  city  was  usually  greater 
than  that  of  many  domains  combined,  for  there  were  extra  ser- 
vices required,  such  as  the  manufacture  of  parchment  and  of  fur- 
nishings and  vestments  for  the  cathedral.  The  building  of  the 
cathedral  itself  was  a  much  more  important  undertaking  than 
the  construction  of  the  feudal  castle,  and  often  involved  the  labor 
of  a  good-sized  village  for  several  generations.  It  is  true  that 
the  great  church-building  operations  did  not  begin  until  the 
twelfth  century,  when  the  expanding  genius  of  the  people  best 
expressed  itself  in  religious  architecture;  yet  at  the  very  begin- 
ning of  the  commercial  period,  the  increasing  wealth  of  the  epis- 
copal estates  was  devoted  to  the  beautifying  of  the  cathedrals. 
Consequently,  large  companies  of  workmen  were  gathered  and 
diversified  industries  carried  on.  An  increased  demand  was  also 
created  for  the  articles  which  had  to  be  imported  for  the  fur- 
nishing and  beautifying  of  the  church — to  be  paid  for  out  of  the 
resources  of  the  episcopal  domains  and  from  the  contributions 
of  the  faithful  of  the  diocese. 

All  of  this  domanial  activity  was  purely  local  in  its  beginnings. 
It  started  up  spontaneously  in  every  section  at  about  the  same 
time;  but  immediately  it  represented  only  local  prosperity,  and 
might  have;  continued  to  exist  without  doing  away  with  the  self- 
sufficient  local  communities.  However,  it  was  the  nature  of 
such  productive  energy  to  find  an  outlet  for  its  products,  and,  by 
the  opportunity  to  secure  the  products  of  other  communities,  to 
receive  a  stimulus  to  greater  productivity.  Such,  at  any  rate, 
was  the  case  in  this  instance.  This  brings  up  the  question  of 
the  nature  of  the  exchanging  organs. 

We  have  seen  that  there  was  always  some  little  intercourse 
between  even  distant  regions  through  the  pilgrims  and  traveling 
traders.  A  few  fairs  and  markets  were  frequented  throughout 
the  darkest  period,  and  a  continuous  though  trifling  trade  was 
kept  up  by  the  wandering  merchants.    The  little  cargoes  of  grain 


THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  COMMERCE  199 

and  wine,  representing  the  surplus  production  of  the  great  domains, 
were  transported  up  and  down  the  Rhine,  the  Maine,  the  Seine, 
and  the  Loire,  and  disposed  of  at  good  profit  where  they  hap- 
pened to  be  most  needed.  Other  traders  carried  their  wares  in 
a  single  pack,  and  made  their  bargains  wherever  they  had  oppor- 
tunity. These  merchants  were  almost  the  only  people  in  Europe 
not  attached  to  the  soil.  They  hved  a  sort  of  vagabond  existence, 
continuing  to  ply  their  trade  from  the  time  of  Charlemagne  to 
the  beginning  of  the  eleventh  century.  They  were  protected 
by  the  imperial  power  until  that  power  disappeared,  and  after 
that  by  the  Church.  They  almost  drop  from  view  during  the 
period  of  anarchy,  and  appear  in  considerable  numbers  upon 
the  routes  only  with  the  revival  of  commerce.'  They  were  ready 
to  take  advantage  of  the  opportunity  for  gain  presented  in  the 
growing  excess  of  products  on  many  of  the  domains.  Many  of 
them,  as  we  have  seen,  were  Jews.  Others  of  the  earlier  traders 
were  from  the  Eastern  Empire.  Later,  we  note  the  appearance, 
in  northern  Europe,  of  merchants  from  Italy,  known  as  Lom- 
bards. Probably  there  were  always  a  few  who  had  escaped  from 
serfdom;  and  as  soon  as  opportunities  for  profitable  trade  in- 
creased and  it  became  safer  for  men  to  detach  themselves  from 
the  domains,  their  numbers  were  more  largely  augmented  by 
men  who  were  attracted  from  the  manors  by  the  wandering  life, 
and  by  villeins  who  were  the  producers  of  commodities  handled 
by  merchants,  which  the  producers  thought  they  might  as  well 
try  to  dispose  of  themselves.  Serfs  could  either  run  away  from 
the  domains,  or  obtain  permission  from  their  masters  to  engage 
in  the  new  business  on  payment  of  a  fine.  Thus  a  class  arose 
whose  business  it  was  to  carry  on  the  exchanging  activity.  They 
had  to  travel  in  caravans  to  protect  themselves  from  brigands, 
and  were  subjected  to  heavy  feudal  tolls  for  the  right  to  sell  on 
the  domains  and  for  pretended  protection  in  passing  through 
the  estates;  but  their  function  was  too  important  to  society  to 
be  entirely  destroyed. 

Thus,  both  of  the  elements  of  commerce  were  provided.     From 

*  Pireiine,  Revue  historique,  LVII,  71-73;  Inama-Sternegg,  op.  cil.,  I,  447-51. 


200  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

this  point  the  development  was  assured.  The  European  indus- 
trial communities  were  at  last  in  a  condition  to  send  a  portion 
of  their  products  away;  and  the  means  were  found,  through 
the  merchants,  for  making  the  exchanges.  The  process  having 
once  been  fairly  started,  it  was  bound  to  go  on  indefinitely.  The 
basis  was  laid  for  a  division  of  labor  extending  beyond  the  single 
domain.  It  was  soon  to  be  possible  for  many  of  the  domains 
to  give  up  attempts  to  produce  certain  crops  or  to  manufacture 
certain  commodities  for  which  they  were  not  adapted,  while  by 
turning  their  whole  energy  to  the  production  for  which  they  were 
well  adapted,  they  would  secure  ample  means  with  which  to 
provide  themselves  with  all  else  needed. 

The  trade  which  was  developed  was  of  a  twofold  nature — 
an  exchange  of  food  products  and  coarser  manufactures  between 
the  various  sections  of  northern  and  western  Europe;  and  an 
exchange  of  the  raw  materials  and  coarse  cloth  of  those  sections 
for  the  richer  commodities  handled  by  the  Italian  merchants. 
The  more  local  commerce  consisted  in  the  exchange,  within  rela- 
tively narrow  limits,  of  the  ordinary  food  products,  salt,  metals, 
wool,  linen,  fish,  etc.  Woolen  cloth  was  extensively  manufac- 
tured in  the  Low  Countries,  to  be  exchanged  for  raw  wool  with 
England,  on  the  one  hand,  and  with  the  neighboring  continental 
regions  for  food,  on  the  other.  The  trade  with  the  Italian  cities 
was  chiefly  in  the  wines  of  France,  the  wool  of  England,  the 
woolen  cloth  of  Flanders,  and  the  skins,  furs,  and  other  raw 
materials  of  the  Baltic  regions.  Every  new  avenue  of  trade  that 
was  opened  up  revealed  new  opportunities  for  profit.  The  vari- 
ous communities  began  to  pursue  the  industrial  activities  which 
seemed  most  profitable  to  them,  and  an  interdependence  was 
established  which  has  never  since  been  broken. 

THE  RISE  OF  THE  TOWNS 

The  development  on  this  side  seems  simple  enough,  but  when 
we  come  to  consider  the  effects  of  the  commercial  activity  on 
the  general  social  hfe,  and  especially  on  the  political  structure, 
we  are  confronted  by  many  complicated  problems.     The  phenom- 


THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  COMMERCE  20I 

enon  most  closely  connected  with  the  development  of  commerce 
was  the  rise  of  towns.  We  have  seen  that  the  basis  of  commerce 
was  laid  on  the  feudal  domains  and  in  those  old  cities  which  had 
become  mere  centers  of  neighboring  domains.  Now,  however, 
we  find  springing  up  everywhere  towns  which  become  not  only 
centers  of  industry  and  commercial  centers,  but  self-governing 
communities  as  well. 

The  best  starting-point  for  the  consideration  of  the  rise  of 
the  cities  seems  to  be  that  suggested  by  Pirenne ;  namely,  that 
the  wandering  merchants  formed  permanent  settlements  at  points 
where  afterward  sprang  up  the  free  towns.     Says  this  writer: 

If  the  merchants  of  the  Middle  Ages  were  always  travelers,  it  is  never- 
theless evident  that  they  must  have  resided  at  definite  places  in  the  intervals 
between  their  trips  or  during  the  bad  season.  It  was  naturally  in  the  local- 
ities whose  situation  was  best  adapted,  by  facility  of  communication,  to  the 
necessities  of  commerce,  that  they  would  group  themselves  in  great  nimibers. 
In  the  ninth  century  more  or  less  numerous  colonies  of  merchants  existed  at 
places  along  the  Rhine,  at  Worms,  and  especially  at  Mayence,  on  the  Meuse, 
at  Verdun  and  at  Maestricht.  In  the  tenth  century,  in  spite  of  the  misery  of 
the  period,  these  colonies  had  not  entirely  disappeared.  Certain  cities  bear 
in  the  sources  the  name  emporium — as  Paris,  Bruges,  Dorstadt,  etc. — and 
we  may  suppose  that  in  a  great  many  of  them,  as  at  Verdun,  there  was  a 
negoHatorum  daustrum,  a  fortified  inclosure  behind  which  the  merchants 
found  protection  against  the  robbers  without.  In  proportion  as  tranquility 
was  re-established,  the  number  of  merchants  was  increased,  and  these  settle- 
ments became  more  numerous  and  more  important.  Wherever  the  conditions 
were  favorable,  an  urbs  nova,  a  surburbium,  a  commercial  suburb,  was  formed 
beside  the  chiteau  and  the  immunities,  the  ensemble  of  which  constituted  the 
town  of  the  agricultural  age;  and  the  fact  that  this  suburb,  the  point  of  depar- 
ture of  the  new  town,  had  a  merchant  population  is  proved  by  the  language  of 
the  time  in  which  the  words  mercator  and  burgensis  were  sjmonymous.  It  was 
the  merchants  who  constituted  the  earliest  bourgeoisie.  The  latter  class  did 
not  arise  from  the  servientes,  milites,  and  ministeriales,  who  had  been  fixed 
for  centuries  about  ihe  cathedrals  and  abbeys;  nor  can  its  origin  be  sought  in 
the  censuales,  who  in  a  nimaber  of  ancient  cities  were  found  under  the  power 
of  the  public  functionaries  or  the  patrons.  It  constituted  essentially  a  social 
class.  It  was  composed  of  advenae,  free  or  unfree,  who,  abandoning  the  culti- 
vation of  the  soil,  came  in  greater  and  greater  numbers  to  find  in  commerce 
and  industry  a  new  means  of  existence.  The  juridical  condition  which  this 
class  finally  secured  was  but  the  necessary  consequence  of  the  life  which  it 


202  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

led:  just  as  the  military  trade  had  made  of  the  man  of  arms  a  noble,  and  the 
cultivation  of  the  soil  had  everywhere  made  of  the  peasant  a  serf,  so  the  exer- 
cise of  the  profession  of  commerce  made  of  the  merchant  a  burgher.' 

Where  the  merchants  lived  when  they  were  but  a  class  of  pack 
peddlers  is  a  matter  of  small  importance.  Some  of  them  may 
have  been  villeins  who  were  permitted  by  their  lords,  on  pay- 
ment of  a  fine,  to  carry  on  their  trade.  This  was  the  case  with 
some  of  the  Jews.  Others  may  have  been  agents  of  churches  or 
religious  houses.  In  these  cases  the  permanent  homes  of  the 
merchants  were  in  the  neighborhood  of  their  masters'  residences. 
Others  who  were  mere  wanderers  may  have  formed  little  settle- 
ments in  the  old  cities,"  doubtless  paying  tribute  to  the  seigneurs. 
Those  who  came  from  the  South  doubtless  returned  to  Italy  after 
their  business  was  completed.  But  when  the  commercial  opera- 
tions became  so  much  more  important,  it  became  necessary  for 
the  large  number  of  traders  to  have  settled  places  of  abode,  both 
as  residences  during  the  bad  seasons,  and  as  places  where  they 
could  conveniently  collect  their  merchandise.  To  these  places 
the  men  from  the  domains  would  go  until,  finally,  a  small  colony 
was  formed  of  persons  who  devoted  their  whole  time  to  trade 
and  who  had  thrown  off  all  but  nominal  allegiance  to  the  feudal 
lords.  The  step  that  would  naturally  follow  the  establishment 
of  the  commercial  settlement  was  the  preparation  of  goods  for 
the  market,  involving  the  gradual  collection  of  a  population  of 
artisans  and  the  development  of  industries  far  more  important 
than  those  of  the  old  domains  which  had  furnished  most  of  the 
first  commodities  for  commerce. 

Pirenne's  explanation  of  the  origin  of  the  town  population 
commends  itself  as  a  purely  natural  one.  It  carries  with  it  the 
further  suggestion  that  we  are  to  find  the  reasons  for  the  location 
of  the  towns  in  geographical,  rather  than  historical,  considera- 
tions. It  is  true  that  many  of  the  new  towns  grew  up  on  the 
sites  of  the  old  Roman  cities,  but  this  was  only  because  the  old 
cities  had  formerly  been  favorably  located  for  commerce,  as  at 

*  Revue  historiqtie,  LVII,  73-75. 

'  Giiy,  Etablissements  de  Rouen,  I,  3. 


THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  COMMERCE  203 

the  crossings  of  the  great  highways,  at  the  points  where  high- 
ways touch  the  rivers,  at  the  mouths  of  the  rivers  and  at  the  head 
of  river  navigation,  at  points  where  two  rivers  flow  together,  at 
points  where  two  rivers  flow  nearest  to  each  other,  where  the 
shortest  portage  was  possible.  If  a  castle  afforded  protection 
or  a  monastery  drew  people  together,  the  place  would  be  all  the 
more  desirable  as  the  headquarters  of  a  company  of  traders; 
but  no  place  became  a  town  merely  because  of  the  existence 
of  city  or  castle  or  monastery,  and  many  towns  sprang  up  at 
such  points  as  those  just  mentioned  though  no  city  or  castle  or 
monastery  had  existed  there  before. 

The  theory  that  the  old  Roman  cities  survived  and  had  a 
continuous  municipal  life  has  been  pretty  generally  abandoned. 
Except,  perhaps,  in  Provence  and  Italy — and  probably  only  in 
Greek  Italy — no  remnant  of  the  old  municipal  institutions  lasted 
through  the  feudal  period.  The  new  towns  were  not  the  natural 
descendants  of  the  old  cities,  even  when  they  sprang  up  as  sub- 
urbs of  the  latter.  Whatever  influence  the  Roman  cities  may 
have  had  as  episcopal  residences,  they  probably  had  not  the 
slightest  influence  in  forming  the  commercial  cities  which  began 
to  spring  up  in  the  eleventh  century.^ 

Nor  is  it  true  that  the  towns  developed  from  the  villages  of 
the  great  domains,  or  under  the  influence  of  domanial  law  from 
the  ancient  cities.  The  domanial  economy  had  prepared  the 
way  for  the  new  epoch,  but  the  domanial  structure  tended  to 
resist  alterations  to  suit  the  changed  conditions.  Where  the 
seigneurs  had  the  greatest  authority,  as  in  most  of  the  episcopal 
cities,  the  communes  met  with  the  most  serious  opposition;  while 
the  development  of  the  towns  was  usually  peaceful  where  the 
jurisdiction  of  the  seigneur  was  loosest,  as  in  Flanders.  Whether 
one  of  the  manorial  villages  grew  into  a  commercial  town,  or 
an  old  Roman  city  was  transformed  into  a  modern  commune, 
the  change  always  depended  upon  the  infusion  of  a  new 
element.  The  merchants  frequently  managed  to  exist  beside 
the  older  orders,  but  only  as  the  latter  were  drawn  into  the 

I  Flach,  Origines  de  I'ancienne  France,  II,  226  ff. 


204  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

new  commercial  movement  did  they  become  a  part  of  the  new 
town.^ 

Neither  can  abbeys  or  castles  be  considered  the  germs  of  the 
towns.  If  they  had  been,  then  the  more  powerful  and  renowned 
the  monasteries  and  forts,  the  more  rapidly  would  towns  have 
sprung  up  under  their  walls.  In  many  instances  towns  did  grow 
up  where  monasteries  or  castles  had  been  established  at  very 
early  dates;  but  many  of  the  most  famous  monasteries  and 
strongest  castles  never  became  cities.  Neither  at  Cluny,  Clair- 
vaux,  nor  Fulda  was  a  city  formed.  Monks  had  sought  retire- 
ment, and  built  their  cloisters  in  unfrequented  places.  If  their 
prosperity  drew  merchants  to  them,  nevertheless  towns  did  not 
grow  up  about  them  unless  they  had  by  accident  been  favorably 
located  for  commercial  purposes.  Some  abbots  tried  to  stimu- 
late the  development  of  towns  by  granting  exceptionally  liberal 
charters,  but  they  failed  unless  the  natural  situation  was  favorable. 
So  also,  the  strongest  castles  were  usually  built  in  unfavorable 
places  for  commerce.  Having  been  located  for  purely  military 
reasons,  they  were  usually  erected  in  the  most  inaccessible  places. 
About  some  forts,  whose  situation  was  found  to  answer  the  needs 
of  commerce,  urban  settlements  were  formed ;  but  the  presence  of 
the  castle  was  as  incidental  as  that  of  the  monastery." 

Finally,  it  may  be  shown  that  the  towns  did  not  orginate  in 
the  fairs  or  permanent  markets.  Cities  did  not  ordinarily  grow 
up  about  the  great  fairs.  The  fairs  were  simply  rendezvous  of 
merchants,  in  many  cases  located  at  famous  sanctuaries  where 
many  pilgrims  came  at  certain  times.  They  had  no  necessary 
relation  to  settled  populations  or  prosperous  domains.  After 
the  feasts  pilgrims  and  merchants  alike  dispersed.  The  markets 
which  were  established  in  great  numbers  in  the  early  part  of  the 
eleventh  century  were  indicative  of  a  revival  of  commerce;  but 
they  were  simply  meeting-places  for  local  populations,  as  the 
fairs  were  for  more  general  gatherings.     Though  held  more  fre- 

I  Pirenne,  Revue  historique,  LIII,  57-61.  Cf.  von  Below,  "Zur  Entstehung 
der  deutschen  Stadtverfassung, "  Historische  Zeitschrift,  LVIII,  234  fF. 

'  Pirenne,  Revue  historique,  LVII,  65,  66. 


THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  COMMERCE  205 

quently  than  fairs,  they  did  not  produce  cities.  These  were 
frequently  established  by  the  seigneur  or  prince  for  purely  fiscal 
considerations,  and  were  seldom  located  at  suitable  points  for 
permanent  commercial  settlements.  When  the  towns  arose, 
they  always  had  their  weekly  markets  to  which  the  peasants  of 
the  surrounding  country  carried  products  for  the  subsistence  of 
the  burgher  population  and  where  the  craftsmen  and  traders 
displayed  their  wares.  But  these  town  markets  were  not  of 
ancient  date.  They  were  established  only  after  there  were  cities 
to  be  provisioned,  and  in  no  sense  caused  the  location  of  a  city. 
Attempts  by  the  seigneurs,  as  at  Radolfzell  and  Allensbach,  to 
fix  a  population  of  merchants  at  markets  belonging  to  them  in 
no  case  resulted  in  the  birth  of  a  city.^  While,  then,  a  city  may 
occasionally  have  arisen  on  the  site  of  a  great  fair  or  seigneurial 
market,  yet,  as  in  the  case  of  towns  which  sprang  up  about  the 
old  cities,  the  castles,  and  the  monasteries,  these  exceptions  are 
to  be  explained  solely  on  the  ground  that  the  fairs  or  markets  in 
question  were  favorably  located  for  trade. 

The  market  theory  of  the  origin  of  the  towns  usually  involves 
the  theory  that  the  king's  peace  protected  the  merchants  attending 
the  fair  or  market,  thus  facilitating  trade  and  laying  the  founda- 
tion of  urban  law.  The  law  of  the  market  is  supposed  to  have 
become  the  urban  law,  and  the  equality  of  all  merchants  before 
the  law  of  the  market  is  supposed  to  have  led  to  an  equalization 
of  their  position  when  the  town  grew  up.  Thus,  royalty  is  held 
to  have  created  the  towns.  The  royal  protection  which  Charle- 
magne threw  around  the  merchants  is  supposed  to  have  con- 
tinued until  the  towns  arose,  and  to  have  brought  especially  heavy 
penalties  upon  the  disturbers  of  the  peace ;  while  the  same  power 
is  held  to  have  given  the  merchant  population  the  right  to  estab- 
lish its  own  magistracy  to  enforce  the  law.  The  town  was  thus 
a  Konigsburg.'  But  such  a  theory  assumes  a  central  power 
such  as  did  not  exist  during  the  formative  period  of  urban  insti- 

1  Ibid.,  66-68. 

2  On  the  Stadtfriede  and  the  Stadtgericht,  vide   Sohm,  Die   Entstehung   des 
deutschen  Stddtewesens,  34-71. 


2o6  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

tutions.  The  "king's  peace"  probably  did  not  extend  beyond 
the  king's  presence,  and  was  frequently  of  little  importance  even 
there;  and  the  Konigsburgs,  as,  for  example,  those  established 
by  Henry  the  Fowler  and  his  son,  while  of  great  value  as  a  pro- 
tection against  the  Slavs  and  other  marauders,  were  merely 
strongholds  for  the  use  of  the  localities,  and  not  royal  fortresses 
protecting  industrial  populations  under  the  king's  special  favor. 
As  Pirenne  points  out,  the  royal  power  was  extremely  weak  in 
Germany,  and  the  emperors  were  more  frequently  hostile  than 
friendly  to  the  burghers.  From  the  beginning  the  emperors 
systematically  favored  the  local  princes  against  the  towns;  for 
they  held  their  crown  at  the  pleasure  of  the  local  princes.  Not 
until  the  end  of  the  Middle  Ages  did  they  assume  the  position 
taken  by  the  French  monarchs.^  Furthermore,  the  royal  power 
was  in  no  place  able  to  give  the  burghers  substantial  aid  in  their 
struggles  until  the  urban  movement  was  well  under  way.  In 
France  the  crown  certainly  had  scarcely  a  shadow  of  authority 
until  the  reign  of  Louis  le  Gros  (1108),  while  in  England  the 
commercial  movement  did  not  begin  until  some  time  after  the 
Conquest.  Whatever  the  ancient  royal  power  might  have  done, 
it  had  largely  passed  away  during  the  feudal  period  and  could 
not  assist  the  merchants  against  the  seigneurs.  The  new  royal 
power  could  develop  only  correlatively  with  the  development  of 
commerce,  and  therefore  with  the  development  of  the  towns 
which  became  commercial  emporia;  and  had  the  royal  power 
become  established  prior  to  the  rise  of  the  towns,  it  would  not 
have  helped  the  latter  until  they  had  helped  themselves  enough 
to  become  a  factor  in  the  political  struggles  of  the  time. 

Other  theories  of  the  origin  of  the  towns,  such  as  the  "free- 
mark  theory"  of  von  Maurer,  to  which  we  have  already  taken 
exception,  or  the  gild  theory  advanced  by  Wilda,  need  no  consid- 
eration in  this  connection.  In  every  theory  we  have  noticed, 
some  element  of  truth  may  be  found.  Historical  facts  can  be 
cited  to  show  that  this  tovni  did  spring  up  under  a  strong  castle, 
that  another  had  been  established  on  the  site  of  a  great  fair,  that 

>  Pirenne,  Revue  historique,  LIU,  81. 


THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  COMMERCE  207 

Still  another  had  grown  about  an  old  city,  and  so  on.  But  as 
explanations  of  the  real  origin  of  the  towns,  all  of  these  are  inade- 
quate. While  the  urban  constitutions  were  formed  under  the 
influence  of  these  various  forces,  they  originated  in  the  economic 
causes  which  have  been  described  above.  ^  The  original  town 
was  simply  the  inclosed  suburb  or  new  town  formed  by  the  mer- 
chant immigrants,  in  which  they  protected  themselves  and  gov- 
erned themselves  according  to  the  needs  of  the  situation.  In 
the  eleventh  century  these  merchants  were  still  considered  stran- 
gers ;  but  their  example  was  contagious,  and  a  greater  and  greater 
number  of  the  ancient  inhabitants  of  the  surrounding  country 
and  of  the  old  city — if  the  town  grew  up  about  one — sought  to 
engage  in  commerce  and  industry.  The  clergy  and  the  villeins 
alike  joined  the  nucleus  of  traders  that  had  been  gathered,  and 
tended  to  identify  themselves  with  the  interests  of  commerce 
rather  than  the  interests  of  their  own  classes.  Not  until  the 
twelfth  century  were  efforts  of  any  importance  made  to  found 
merchant  colonies  by  preconceived  plan;  and  then  the  attempts 
were  successful  only  when  the  locations  were  favorable. 

Establishment  of  the  urban  constitutions. — The  urban  con- 
stitutions were  in  part  the  necessary  consequence  of  the  change 
in  the  status  of  the  urban  populations  and  in  part  the  safeguards 
of  the  growing  freedom  acquired  by  the  burghers  through  the 
working  of  economic  forces.  The  chief  feature  of  the  town  was 
its  autonomy.  It  might  be  subject  to  the  seigneur  of  the  district 
to  the  extent  of  paying  some  kind  of  tribute  to  him;  but  its  inter- 
nal affairs  had  to  be  exclusively  in  the  hands  of  the  burghers. 
This  autonomy  was  insisted  on,  not  from  any  desire  for  freedom 
for  its  own  sake,  but  because  commercial  interests  could  not 
flourish  under  the  control  of  arbitrary  and  irrational  seigneurial 
methods.  The  rising  of  the  communes  against  seigneurial  rule 
was  spontaneous  and  universal.  The  eleventh  and  twelfth 
centuries  were  full  of  these  uprisings.    The  feudal  tolls  were 

I  Les  villes  sont  n6es   spontan^ment   sous   1 'action  des  causes  ^conomiques 

qu'a  suscitees  en  Europe   la  renaissance  du  commerce  et  de  I'industrie 

De  lui  meme,  en  effet,  le  courant  6conomique  se  porte  vers  ces  endroits. " — Pirenne, 
Revue  historique,  LVII,  68. 


2o8  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

intolerable,  and  were,  of  course,  most  burdensome  in  the  neigh- 
borhood of  the  commercial  centers.  And  the  domanial  customs 
governing  the  relations  of  persons  and  of  property  were  so  un- 
suited  to  a  commercial  age  that  urban  laws  and  courts  had  to  be 
substituted  for  them. 

In  return  for  the  heavy  feudal  exactions,  no  services  what- 
ever were  rendered  by  the  lords.  The  roads  were  not  kept  in 
repair,  and  no  protection  was  given  to  the  merchants  either  in 
their  towns  or  on  the  roads.  The  merchants  of  the  towns  had  to 
form  associations  for  the  construction  of  public  works  and  for  self- 
protection.  These  did  not  necessarily  take  the  form  of  gilds, 
for  there  were  communes  where  the  gild  was  unknown — for 
example,  Cambrai,  Beauvais,  Toumai.  Nor,  since  the  great 
works  of  Gross  and  Hegel,  can  it  be  maintained  that  the  gild 
ever  gave  birth  to  the  town.  The  urban  community  was  usually 
ruled  by  an  aristocracy  composed  of  the  leaders  of  the  merchant 
gild  or  of  the  greater  craft  gilds,  but  these  close  corporations 
were  a  later  development:  they  helped  in  developing,  but  did 
not  originate,  the  towns. ^  Nevertheless,  the  early  merchants, 
like  all  other  men  who  have  been  drawn  together  by  common 
interests  were  forced  to  form  some  plan  of  co-operation.  When 
traveling  in  caravans,  they  were  obliged  to  maintain  some  dis- 
cipline, and  were  naturally  led  to  form  a  regular  company  wdth 
chiefs  whose  authority,  though  temporary,  was  absolute  under 
certain  conditions.  The  flotillas  and  fleets  likewise  had  to  be 
governed.  The  merchants  who  were  given  the  lead  under  such 
circumstances  naturally  became  the  leaders  when  their  commu- 
nities arose  in  revolt  against  feudal  exactions.  At  Cologne  in 
1074  the  rebellion  was  provoked  by  the  requisition  of  a  mer- 
chant's boat  for  the  use  of  the  bishop.  In  Flanders  the  mer- 
chants arose  in  revolt  against  William  of  Normandy  in  11 27, 
because  he  had  failed  to  keep  his  promise  to  suppress  the  tonnage 
duties. 

Almost  everywhere  the  lay  towns  had  a  more  peaceful  devel- 
opment than  those  under  ecclesiastical  lordship.    This  was  partly 

^  Gross,  Gild  Merchant,  I,  chap.  i. 


THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  COMMERCE  209 

because  the  secular  lords  seldom  resided  in  the  cities.  The 
greater  part  of  the  year  was  spent  in  traveling  about  their  domains. 
But  the  ecclesiastical  lords  were  always  in  the  midst  of  the  urban 
population,  and  when  the  merchant  settlements  began  to  grow, 
the  bishop  or  the  abbot  could  keep  a  strict  watch  upon  them  and 
prevent  them  from  gradually  gaining  the  power  they  coveted. 
Again,  the  ecclesiastical  lords  held  theories  drawn  from  the 
writings  of  the  fathers,  which  led  them  to  regard  the  feudal  social 
organization  as  the  ideal.  Their  administration  had  been  uni- 
formly excellent.  They  had  treated  their  villeins  with  liberality 
and  intelligence.  But  for  the  very  reason  that  they  had  a  higher 
idea  of  their  mission  and  had  gone  about  their  task  more  seriously 
than  the  secular  lords  had  done,  they  desired  to  maintain  the 
system  they  had  fostered.  The  new  political  program  was 
incompatible  with  certain  principles  which  the  Church  was  not 
prepared  to  abandon.  It  could  not  renounce  its  tribunals,  its 
rights  of  asylum,  its  juridical  and  financial  systems.  Nor  did  it 
seem  desirable  to  change  the  paternal  system  to  which  the  world 
had  become  accustomed  and  whose  best  features  were  so  largely 
the  result  of  the  modifying  influence  of  the  Church.  Therefore, 
the  conflicts  against  ecclesiastical  seigneurs  were  usually  more 
violent  than  those  against  the  less  benevolent,  but  more  careless, 
secular  lords.  The  latter  frequently  allowed  their  power  to  slip 
away  from  them  before  they  realized  what  was  going  on.  Not 
paying  much  attention  to  the  business  management  of  their 
domains,  they  were  likely  to  be  satisfied  to  permit  changes  to  take 
place,  provided  their  accustomed  incomes  were  not  actually 
diminished.  But  the  bishops  and  abbots  watched  every  move- 
ment and  sought  to  check  the  dangerous  commercial  tendencies* 
Even  Cambrai,  under  its  good  bishops,  had  to  resort  to  violence. 
In  these  struggles  with  their  seigneurs  the  communes  were  every- 
where successful.  Mans  (1072),  Cambrai  (1076),  Beauvais  (1099), 
set  the  example  for  the  communes,  and  by  the  thirteenth 
century  all  had  become  free  from  the  feudal  yoke.  The  effort 
to  maintain  the  domanial  organization  was  everywhere  futile, 
just  as  the  attempts  to  withstand  the  movement  toward  disin- 


2IO  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

tegration  had  been  unsuccessful  in  the  previous  epoch.  Both 
revolutions  corresponded  to  social  and  economic  transformations 
more  powerful  than  governments  and  traditions.  The  accom- 
plished fact  of  urban  independence  had  to  be  ratified — here  under 
pressure  of  war  and  rebellion,  there  for  payments  of  money, 
elsewhere  because  the  seigneurs  took  account  of  the  new 
situation.^ 

The  communes  in  France  were  assisted  in  their  struggle  for 
independence  by  the  growing  royal  power.  For  the  same  reason 
that  the  exactions  of  the  seigneurs  of  the  towns  were  intolerable, 
the  tolls  and  duties  on  the  rivers  and  roads  became  unbearable. 
The  rivers  were  of  greater  importance  than  the  roads,  both  on 
account  of  the  greater  security  of  that  means  of  transportation 
and  because  of  its  greater  cheapness.  But  from  Paris  to  Rouen, 
from  Orleans  to  Nantes,  from  Toulouse  to  Bordeaux,  there  were 
scores  of  river  seigneurs  who  levied  toll  on  all  passing  commerce. 
The  same  conditions  prevailed,  in  a  more  aggravated  form,  along 
the  land  routes.  The  associations  of  merchants  and  the  con- 
federations of  free  communes  treated  with  many  of  the  seign- 
eurs, and  bargained  for  exemption  from  tolls  in  return  for  a  lump 
sum.  In  France,  Burgundy,  Normandy,  Flanders,  and  other 
important  kingdoms  and  duchies,  the  royal  or  ducal  power  was 
likewise  interested  in  getting  control  of  the  tolls,  as  well  as  in 
breaking  the  power  of  feudalism.  In  France  the  power  of  the 
Capetien  kings  was  steadily  gaining;  the  Duchy  of  Francia  was 
being  enlarged  by  the  annexation  of  contiguous  fiefs;  and  the 
new  royal  house  was  ambitious  to  carry  out  the  theories  of  the 
monarchy  and  the  central  organization  of  the  State  that  had 
always  been  held  in  some  vague  form.  It  was  becoming  more 
nearly  possible  to  maintain  a  central  government  because  of  the 
settled  condition  of  the  country  and  because  of  the  greater  resources 
which  the  king  could  command. 

The  first  movement  in  this  direction  was  found  in  the  great 
fiefs.     The  great  feudatories  intervened  in  the  quarrels  of  their 

'  Hegel,  Stadte  und  Gilden  der  germanischen  Volker  im  Mittelalter,  II,  55  ff.; 
Pirenne   Revue  historique,  LVII    304-7;   Levasseur  op.  cit.,  I,  180,  181. 


THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  COMMERCE  21 1 

vassals,  suppressed  brigandage,  abolished  some  of  the  arbitrary 
tolls,  and  confirmed  the  charters  which  the  seigneurs  had  been 
obliged  to  grant  to  the  communes.  Some  of  the  great  dukes 
and  counts  were  more  truly  sovereigns  than  Philip  I  was  in  the 
royal  domains.  In  the  northern  sections,  where  the  industrial 
movement  was  most  marked,  this  centralizing  tendency  was 
strongest.  But  by  the  beginning  of  the  twelfth  century  the  kings 
of  France  were  in  possession  of  rather  wide  dominions  in  a 
strategic  position,  which  had  been  brought  together  by  Philip 
I;^  and  Louis  VI  laid  the  real  foundations  of  Capetien  great- 
ness by  reducing  the  feudal  castles  on  the  Seine  and  the  Oise, 
giving  justice  to  the  peasants  and  traders,  granting  charters  to 
many  communes,  and,  in  general,  establishing  a  real  sovereignty 
within  his  own  dominions.  The  same  suppression  of  the  out- 
grown powers  of  the  baronage  of  their  respective  districts  was 
accomplished  by  the  other  great  feudatories.  With  these  latter 
Louis  had  practically  only  international  relations.  But  after 
the  development  of  law  and  order  in  the  great  fiefs  had 
everywhere  raised  the  commercial  communities  and  undermined 
feudal  institutions,  the  overthrow  of  the  Angevin  power  at  Bou- 
vines  (12 14)  enabled  Philip  Augustus  to  extend  the  royal  authority 
over  the  greater  part  of  northern  and  central  France;  while  the 
support  given  by  that  monarch  to  the  Albigensian  Crusade  resulted 
in  the  addition  of  Languedoc  and  Provence  to  the  royal  dominions 
and  their  final  assimilation  into  the  national  life. 

The  natural  course  for  the  king,  as  for  the  great  feudatories, 
was  to  take  the  part  of  the  merchants  against  the  seigneurs.  By 
this  means  the  communes  were  assisted  in  obtaining  autonomy, 
or  in  maintaining  a  position  already  gained;  and — what  was 
equally  important — the  merchants  were  relieved  of  the  numerous 
exactions  of  the  feudal  lords  and  subjected  to  more  moderate 
and  more  regular  taxes  imposed  by  the  king.  The  towns  on 
the  royal  manors  were  not  so  favored,  for  the  kings  had  no  desires 
to  build  up  rival  powers;    but  these  towns  received  every  advan- 

I  Luchaire,  Histoire  des  institutions  monarchiques  de  la  France  sous  les  pre- 
miers Capetiens,  II,  246  fif. 


212  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

tage  of  the  revolution  that  was  going  on  elsewhere,  save  that  of 
autonomy.  Paris  never  had  a  communal  charter;  yet  the  burgh- 
ers of  Paris  enjoyed  very  extensive  privileges  and  became  prac- 
tically self-governing.  Orleans  was  the  only  royal  city  to  attempt 
to  constitute  itself  a  commune,  and  it  was  severely  punished  for 
the  attempt. 

The  kings  sought  only  political  power  and  did  not  care  to 
preserve  serfdom,  until,  too  late,  they  saw  that  complete  indus- 
trial freedom  tended  toward  a  democracy  that  would  be  as  inimical 
to  royalty  as  the  feudal  aristocracy  had  been.  The  seigneurs 
likewise  desired  only  political  power,  but  their  political  authority 
was  bound  up  with  the  control  of  their  domains.  Their  eco- 
nomic lordship  could  easily  be  overthrown  by  the  king,  provided 
the  burghers  would  transfer  their  political  allegiance  to  him. 
This  the  townsmen  were  ever  ready  to  do.  There  was  no  very 
strong  desire  for  municipal  liberty,  provided  the  economic  ar- 
rangements could  be  adapted  to  the  needs  of  commerce  without 
political  independence.  Self-government  was  only  an  expedient 
to  which  the  merchants  had  been  compelled  to  resort  in  order  to 
free  themselves  from  the  sovereignty  of  lords  who  were  unwilling 
to  adapt  their  demands  to  the  changed  conditions.  It  is  a  his- 
torical fallacy  to  read  back  into  the  consciousness  of  the  burghers 
who  were  struggling  for  the  right  of  self-government  the  desire 
for  independence  for  its  own  sake.  The  latter  would  come,  if 
the  commune  could  maintain  its  independence  for  some  time; 
but  in  the  beginning  independence  was  desired  for  practical  rea- 
sons only.  The  free  communes  of  France  made  an  economic 
gain,  but  maintained  political  equilibrium  with  difficulty;  so  that 
the  royal  power  easily  assumed  control  of  the  political  functions. 
A  wide-reaching  state  had  many  manifest  advantages  over  a  host 
of  petty  city  republics.  A  liberal  spirit  was  shown  by  the  crown 
in  all  the  regulations  of  the  towns  which  were  successively  annexed 
to  the  royal  dominions.  Sometimes  even  the  communes  were 
respected.  The  charter  of  Rouen  was  sanctioned  by  an  ordi- 
nance of  1278,  and  in  1303  Philip  le  Bel  confirmed  the  juridical 
rights  of  the  consuls  of  Toulouse.     By  the  time  of  Philip  Augustus, 


THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  COMMERCE  213 

the.  royal  laws  were  administered  under  the  supervision  of  royal 
haillis;  and  this  check  upon  seigneurial  laws  and  pretensions 
compensated  the  towns  for  the  loss  of  complete  autonomy.  In 
matters  purely  municipal  the  towns  were  allowed  great  liberty. 
Only  after  the  nobility  had  been  made  wholly  subservient,  did 
the  kings  attempt  to  suppress  the  expanding  bourgeoisie.  On 
the  whole,  we  are  to  regard  the  French  monarchy,  not  as  inaugu- 
rating, but  as  helping  on,  the  inevitable  industrial  development. 
Its  power  was  due  in  part  to  the  resources  of  the  royal  domains 
and  their  favorable  location,  in  part  to  the  sagacity  of  many  of  the 
Capetien  kings,  in  part  to  the  stupidity  of  most  of  the  Plantage- 
nets,  but  chiefly,  we  must  believe,  to  the  fact  that  it  placed  itself 
in  line  with  the  economic  movement  of  the  times  and  helped  to 
break  down  a  system  that  was  no  longer  adapted  to  social  needs. 
The  economic  movement  preceded  the  political  by  many  years. 
The  resistance  of  the  seigneurs  represented  the  persistence  of 
the  old  structure;  the  struggles  of  the  merchants  and  the  king, 
the  attempt  to  secure  a  new  adaptation. 

In  Germany  the  pubHc  power  did  not  revive  in  time  to  be 
of  importance  in  this  development.  There  were  no  such  rulers 
in  Germany  as  the  great  feudatories  in  France,  The  petty 
princes  were  so  engaged  in  pohtical  struggles  with  one  another 
that  they  had  httle  time  to  devote  to  the  internal  development 
of  their  dominions.  They  purchased  the  support  of  their  vassals 
by  helping  them  to  resist  the  demands  of  the  burghers;  and  the 
emperor,  who  never  had  the  resources  of  a  relatively  strong  royal 
domain  to  help  him  to  establish  himself,  as  was  the  case  with  the 
French  king,  was  obhged  to  purchase  the  support  of  the  princes 
by  opposing  the  towns.  The  towns  were  thrown  more  entirely 
on  their  own  resources.  The  Germanic  hanse  was  necessary 
not  only  for  the  protection  and  furtherance  of  trade  in  foreign 
parts,  but  also  to  take  the  place  to  some  extent  of  a  national  gov- 
ernment. It  was  not  merely  the  interdicts  of  kings  that  kept 
the  French  cities  out  of  the  league:  the  regulation  of  aflfairs  in 
the  whole  region  to  which  they  belonged  was  in  their  interest. 
The  German  cities   had  to  keep  up  a  much  more  prolonged 


214  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

Struggle  against  feudal  exactions.  With  them  the  league  took 
the  place  of  the  national  power. 

In  England  the  towns  arose  more  slowly  and  with  less  friction. 
There  are  evidences  of  a  slight  movement  toward  urban  devel- 
opment before  the  Conquest.  There  were  some  eighty  towns 
in  existence  when  the  Normans  came;  but  the  largest  of  these 
contained  no  more  than  seven  or  eight  thousand  inhabitants, 
and  many  of  them  were  probably  no  more  than  episcopal  cities. 
There  are  some  indications  of  a  movement  toward  urban  consti- 
tutional development;^  but  most  of  the  towns  were  mere  hamlets 
under  complete  feudal  domination,  and  none  had  yet  secured 
autonomy.  Such  trade  as  then  existed  was  centered  in  these 
little  towns.  London,  Sandwich,  and  Dover  carried  on  a  trade 
with  the  Franks;  Bristol  and  Chester  were  extensive  slave  mar- 
kets; York,  Lincoln,  Norwich,  and  Ipswich  had  commercial 
relations  with  the  Baltic  regions,  the  Danes  having  estabhshed 
a  flourishing  trade  with  their  home  country.  During  the  Saxon 
period,  however,  England  was  a  country  of  manors,  and  scarcely 
the  beginnings  of  commerce  were  found.  Merchants  were  seldom 
mentioned  in  the  laws,  and  scarcely  existed  as  a  separate  class. 
The  imports  were  all  articles  of  luxury  for  the  higher  classes,  such 
as  silks,  gold,  gems,  wine,  oil,  and  glass;  while  the  exports  were 
exclusively  raw  materials,  wool  being  the  most  important.  The 
frequent  mention  of  the  Jews  in  the  old  accounts  indicates  that 
much  of  the  trade  must  have  been  in  the  hands  of  that  race. 

The  first  effect  of  the  Norman  Conquest  was  the  decrease  of 
town  populations,  caused  both  by  the  destruction  of  war  and  by 
the  poHcy  of  William  to  build  castles  to  overawe  the  whole  land.' 
But  the  closer  connection  with  Normandy  and  Flanders  served 
to  stimulate  trade,  and  the  greater  security  which  prevailed  after 
the  Norman  rule  was  estabhshed  made  possible  greater  internal 
prosperity.  After  the  Conquest,  Norman  artisans  were  imported 
to  provide  for  wants  which  the  Saxon  laborers  could  not  satisfy. 
Most  of  the  towns  were  on  the  royal  domains.     These  readily 

»  Stubbs,  Constitutional  History,  I,  93  ff. 

»  Ashley,  Economic  History,  I,  chap,  ii,  passim. 


THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  COMMERCE  215 

secured  charters  when  they  arose  to  importance.  Others  which 
belonged  to  the  demesne  of  barons  and  abbots  could  gain  their 
freedom  only  step  by  step.  On  the  whole,  however,  the  charters 
were  gained  much  more  peaceably  than  they  were  on  the  Con- 
tinent. Many  charters  were  granted  during  the  reign  of  Henry  I, 
freeing  the  burghers  from  the  old  customary  duties  in  return 
for  a  fixed  rent,  and  giving  them  the  right  to  choose  their  own  justices 
and  to  enact  their  own  laws.  Even  during  times  that  were  unfa- 
vorable to  trade,  as  when  the  nobles  were  waging  war  against 
one  another  during  Stephen's  reign  and  when  they  went  under 
Richard  I  against  the  Saracens,  the  towns  continued  to  advance; 
for  though  commerce  might  have  its  backsets  at  those  times,  the 
seigneurs  were  all  the  more  willing  to  sell  charters. 

Until  a  comparatively  late  period,  the  EngUsh  towns  remained 
little  more  than  trading- centers.  Such  manufacturing  as  went 
on  within  them  was  for  the  local  market  only.  In  the  new 
division  of  labor  which  was  being  organized,  England  remained 
an  agricultural  country.  The  new  commercial  activity  caused 
the  decay  of  the  self-sufficient  manorial  system,  but  the  introduc- 
tion of  manufactures  did  not  follow.  The  wealth  of  the  EngHsh 
consisted,  above  all  else,  in  their  flocks  of  sheep ;  or,  at  least,  wool 
was  the  chief  surplus  which  could  be  exchanged  for  other  com- 
modities. The  comparative  peace  established  by  the  strong 
government  of  the  Normans  made  sheep-farming  more  practi- 
cable than  it  was  amidst  the  struggles  of  barons  and  sovereigns 
on  the  Continent.  The  magnificent  natural  pasturage  of  Eng- 
land and  proximity  to  the  regions  where  the  textile  arts  were 
earhest  and  most  successfully  cultivated  Hkewise  had  much  to 
do  with  the  development  of  the  EngUsh  wool  industry.  Later, 
when  England  had  a  virtual  monopoly  of  the  supply  of  raw  wool, 
the  ease  with  which  the  government  could  gather  revenues  from 
export  duties  on  this  commodity  added  a  political  reason  for  the 
encouragement  of  the  exportation  of  wool.  Not  until  the  reign 
of  Edward  III  did  the  manufacture  of  wool,  except  by  the  family 
for  home  consumption,  begin  to  assume  any  importance  what- 
ever;   and  it  was  not  until  the  Tudor  period  that  EngHsh  cloth 


2i6  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

could  compete  with  the  Flemish.  Not  only  did  the  profitable- 
ness of  the  trade  in  raw  wool  stand  in  the  way  of  a  diversion  of 
labor  and  capital  to  other  fields;  the  English  laborer  seemed  to 
to  lack  in  inventiveness  until  he  was  re-enforced  by  Flemish  immi- 
grants. In  addition  to  raw  wool,  lead  and  tin  were  important 
exports.  The  imports,  except  iron,  were  chiefly  articles  of  lux- 
ury. But  wool  remained  the  chief  article  of  export.  Because 
of  this  fact,  that  EngUsh  industry  was  still  agricultural  and  extract- 
ive, the  towns  did  not  grow  so  rapidly  as  in  those  sections  where 
manufacturing  was  carried  on.  The  merchants  remained  mer- 
chants. Few  important  craftsmen  arose;  that  is,  few  whose 
business  gave  them  interests  outside  of  their  own  communities. 
On  that  account  the  merchants  remained  a  more  compact  body 
than  they  would  have  been,  had  they  early  come  in  conflict  with 
strong  bodies  of  craftsmen.  Therefore  the  gilds  merchant  occu- 
pied an  exceptionally  strong  position  in  England.  By  the  close 
of  the  twelfth  century  these  organizations  were  found  in  nearly 
all  the  important  towns  of  England,  while  the  craft  gilds  did  not 
become  numerous  until  a  century  later.  By  that  time  the  mer- 
chant gilds  had  become  strongly  rooted,  and  the  introduction  of 
manufactures  was  so  gradual  that  the  craft  gilds  did  not  become 
strong  enough  to  engage  in  serious  conflict  for  the  mastery  of  town 
governments  and  trade  regulations.  In  Germany  and  the  Nether- 
lands the  craftsmen  were  early  able  to  contest  the  supremacy  of 
the  merchants. 

England  thus  remained  an  agricultural  country,  but  not  in 
the  sense  that  all  Europe  had  been  agricultural  during  the  pre- 
ceding centuries.  A  surplus  was  produced  for  export,  and  com- 
mercial towns  naturally  sprang  up,  just  as  was  the  case  on  the 
Continent;  but  manufacturing  industries  did  not  become  impor- 
tant until  the  Tudor  period,  and  then  only  as  artisans  were 
imported  from  the  Continent,  The  old  self-sufficiency  was  de- 
stroyed, but  not  to  quite  the  same  extent  as  elsewhere;  for  a 
country  that  continued  to  produce  all  of  its  raw  materials  depended 
but  Httle  upon  any  other  country  except  for  the  articles  consumed 
by  the  upper  classes.     Within  the  kingdom,  however,  the  old 


THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  COMMERCE  217 

local  self-dependent  community  was  broken  up.  The  manor 
ceased  to  be  a  complete  society,  for  its  inhabitants  exchanged 
the  things  which  they  could  most  advantageously  produce  for 
commodities  which  they  had  formerly  been  obhged  to  produce, 
but  which  could  now  be  produced  more  economically  elsewhere. 
The  essential  feature  of  the  town  was,  as  we  have  seen,  its 
autonomy.  This  autonomy  was  substituted  for  the  old  domanial 
control.  Independence  in  the  management  of  internal  affairs 
having  been  secured,  the  towns  could  work  out  such  form  of 
government  as  was  best  adapted  to  their  needs.  Since  the  needs 
of  commerce  had  freed  the  towns,  the  commercial  class  became 
the  citizen  class.  Accustomed  to  co-operating  in  their  struggles 
against  the  seigneur  and  when  traveling  in  caravans,  the  mer- 
chants naturally  formed  a  body  of  citizens  who  could  conduct 
the  municipal  government.  The  merchant  association  did  not 
govern  the  city,  as  some  writers  have  assumed.  The  gilds  had 
their  officers  and  rules,  but  these  were  not  directly  transformed 
into  urban  magistrates  and  ordinances.  They  contributed  to 
the  public  works  of  their  town  from  their  own  treasuries,  but 
their  dues  did  not  become  the  pubHc  taxes.  The  gilds  were  volun- 
tary associations,  while  the  commune  was  a  poHtical  organization 
in  which  every  individual  had  to  be  subject  to  the  collective  action. 
Within  the  gilds  there  frequently  arose  superior  classes  who 
practically  controlled  their  organizations.  Much  more,  then, 
might  these  same  great  merchants  be  expected  to  control  the 
affairs  of  their  commune.  The  merchant  class  naturally  controlled 
the  poHcy  of  the  commercial  towns,  and  the  leaders  in  the  gilds 
were  uniformly  the  leaders  in  urban  affairs;  but  this  did  not 
involve  the  blending  of  the  two  organizations.  The  commune 
included  all  persons  within  the  town  walls  who  would  take  the 
oath  of  loyalty,  whether  members  of  the  merchant  gild  or  not, 
and  whether  having  a  voice  in  pubhc  affairs  or  not.  Finally, 
everybody  had  to  become  subject  to  the  communal  authority,  it 
mattered  not  what  his  original  status  had  been,  under  penalty 
of  expulsion  from  the  town.  If  the  colony  of  merchants  had 
been  formed  about  an  old  city,  there  existed  beside  it  a  mixed 


2l8  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

population  consisting  of  the  clergy,  sometimes  a  secular  noble- 
man, soldiers,  ministerials,  and  many  classes  of  unfree  persons. 
The  lands  within  the  city  represented  as  many  kinds  of  tenure 
as  there  were  classes  in  the  population.  But  in  time  the  new  ac- 
tivities transformed  all  classes  of  men  and  all  tenures,  producing 
a  new  unity. 

The  merchants,  at  first,  though  protected  by  their  associations 
and  by  the  jus  mercatorium,  so  far  as  the  latter  had  any  force, 
might  still  be  unfree  and  under  domanial  jurisdiction.  Many 
of  the  traders,  of  course,  got  so  far  away  from  their  old  masters 
that  the  latter  could  no  longer  hold  them,  but  many  were  under 
the  technical  jurisdiction  of  neighboring  seigneurs.  They  were 
Uable  to  forcible  return  to  their  seigneurs  at  any  time  and  to  rein- 
corporation in  the  villages  to  which  they  belonged.  Now  all  of 
these  feudal  claims,  products  of  a  purely  agricultural  civilization, 
were  incompatible  with  the  new  economic  activities  and  had  to 
be  aboHshed  by  argument  or  by  force.  There  was  scarcely  an 
urban  charter  that  did  not  stipulate  that  the  servitude  of  the 
members  of  the  commune  to  the  seigneur  should  be  abolished. 
From  the  twelfth  century  residence  in  a  town  for  a  year  and  a 
day  assured  exemption  from  any  seigneurial  claims  whatever. 
This  movement  for  personal  Hberty  was  necessitated  by  the 
requirements  of  the  new  Hfe,  and  had  nothing  to  do  with  con- 
ceptions of  the  dignity  of  humanity.  With  personal  liberty  for 
the  inhabitants  of  the  town  came  hberty  of  the  soil  of  the  town. 
The  seigneurs  frequently  retained  a  nominal  title  to  the  urban 
land,  but  the  rental  was  only  nominal;  and  the  land,  practically 
unencumbered  by  any  of  these  claims,  could  be  freely  transferred 
by  the  burgher.  It  thus  became  an  important  item  of  wealth  and 
a  collateral  on  which  the  merchant  could  raise  capital  for  the 
extension  of  his  operations.  The  free  land,  Uke  the  free  man, 
necessarily  fell  under  the  jurisdiction  of  the  urban  tribimal. 

Beyond  these  features  of  the  urban  constitutions,  it  is  scarcely 
necessary  for  us  to  go  in  this  inquiry.  The  development  of  these 
constitutions  is  a  subject  full  of  interest  to  the  student  of  poHtical 
institutions,  but  for  our  purposes  it  is  only  necessary  to  note  the 


THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  COMMERCE  219 

manner  in  which  the  political  structure  was  determined  by  the 
industrial  hfe.  In  the  division  of  municipal  powers,  in  the  regu- 
lations of  industry,  in  the  imposition  of  taxes,  in  the  special  methods 
by  which  the  town  "peace"  was  maintained,  the  communal 
governments  differed  among  themselves  in  almost  every  con- 
ceivable manner;  but  in  securing  independence  of  domanial 
rule  and  in  making  everything  serve  the  ends  of  commerce,  the 
constitutions  of  the  communes  were  practically  the  same  in  all 
parts  of  Europe,* 

The  gilds  and  the  status  0}  the  individiml. — It  was  shown  in 
the  last  chapter  that  the  agricultural  organization  had  brought 
about  a  change  in  the  status  of  the  laborer — that  by  the  time  the 
manorial  system  was  fully  developed  slavery  had  disappeared 
and  the  servile  populations  had  secured  a  virtual  freedom  within 
their  industry.  A  full  individuality  was  not  attained  because  the 
individual  functioned,  not  for  European  society  as  a  whole,  but 
for  the  small  manorial  group.  The  economic  institution,  the 
manor,  mediated  between  the  individual  and  society.  The  indi- 
vidual, while  free  within  the  manorial  limitations,  was  still  a 
serf.' 

Now,  while  the  condition  of  serfdom  might  continue  indefi- 
nitely in  backward  agricultural  communities  distant  from  the 
centers  of  industry,  it  was  wholly  incompatible  with  the  life  of 
the  commercial  communities  and  even  of  agricultural  sections 
which  had  been  disturbed  by  commerce.  The  important  com- 
mercial activity  of  England  was  carried  on  by  foreigners,  and 
manufactures  were  very  backward  in  that  country;  nevertheless, 
serfdom  was  breaking  down  in  England  even  before  the  Black 
Death.  The  prosperous  condition  of  English  agriculture  led 
to  an  increased  demand  for  labor,  and  the  exportation  of  wool 
brought  a  comparatively  large  amount  of  money  into  the  country. 
The  Black  Death  destroyed  about  half  of  the  population,  conse- 
quently doubling  the  per  capita  money  circulation.  Thus,  it 
became  easy  for  the  villeins  to  commute  their  predial  services 

'  Pirenne,  Revue  historique,  LVII,  88-93. 
»  Vide  supra,  181,  182. 


320  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

for  money  rates;  and  the  lords  were  obliged  to  commute  at  the 
old  valuation  of  such  services,  for  otherwise  the  serfs  who  sought 
to  make  the  change  would  simply  join  the  large  number  of  others 
who  deserted  the  manors  to  which  they  belonged,  and  settled 
where  conditions  suited  them.  From  the  beginning  of  the  urban 
movement  there  was  a  persistent  struggle  on  the  part  of  the 
burghers  for  freedom  from  all  feudal  obligations.  From  the 
twelfth  century  this  freedom  was  generally  guaranteed  to  any- 
one who  resided  in  a  town  for  a  year  and  a  day.  This  freedom 
from  personal  control  was  desired,  not  from  any  abstract  love 
of  liberty,  but  because  it  was  absolutely  necessary  for  the  satis- 
factory performance  of  the  new  economic  activities.  Of  course, 
after  the  economic  changes  had  brought  about  these  changes 
in  the  status  of  many  of  the  villeins,  others  could  see  no  reason 
why  they  too  should  not  be  reheved  of  their  old  burdens  even 
though  they  continued  to  follow  the  old  pursuits;  hence  doc- 
trines of  social  equality  began  to  appear.^  The  feudal  bonds 
were  broken  by  the  various  associations  which  were  formed  by 
the  merchants,  including  the  communal  organizations  which, 
though  of  a  political  nature,  existed  for  the  furtherance  of 
economic  ends. 

The  formation  of  these  various  associations  by  merchants 
and  artisans  was  natural  and  spontaneous.  Men  having  com- 
mon interests  are  bound,  when  thrown  together,  to  form  associa- 
tions for  mutual  protection  and  the  furtherance  of  common 
interests.  When  merchants  began  to  travel  from  place  to  place 
in  company,  they  naturally  organized  themselves  for  defense, 
joint  bargaining,  and  internal  order.  When  the  traveling  mer- 
chants habitually  visited  a  certain  place,  they  would  naturally 
establish  a  depot,  as,  for  example,  the  Steelyard  in  London,  which 
had  to  be  under  the  permanent  control  of  some  kind  of  an  asso- 
ciation. When  large  companies  of  merchants  settled  perma- 
nently in  a  given  place,  they  were  obliged  to  form  an  organiza- 
tion having  wider  powers  than  a  mere  association  for  the  promo- 

»  Cf.  Page,  "The  End  of  Villainage  in  England,"  Publications  of  the  American 
Economic  Association  (Third  Series),  I,  358,  359. 


THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  COMMERCE  221 

tion  of  commercial  interests;  but  these  communes  were  formed 
under  the  influence  of  the  merchant  associations  and  were  adapted 
to  commercial  needs.  Yet  the  formation  of  a  political  organi- 
zation adapted  to  the  new  life  did  not  do  away  with  the  volun- 
tary associations.  The  immediate  interests  of  commerce  were 
still  intrusted  to  the  latter.  Under  the  forms  of  gilds,  hanses, 
brotherhoods,  banquets,  etc.,^  the  trading  population  foimd  it 
possible  to  carry  on  an  activity  which  was  impossible  for  isolated 
individuals.  Some  of  the  associations  which  controlled  com- 
merce were  craft  gilds,  as  in  Florence ;  some  were  companies  which 
had  been  organized  for  protection  along  the  routes  and  for  col- 
lective bargaining  with  the  seigneurs  who  levied  tolls,  as  the 
Marchands  de  I'Eau  of  Paris;  some  were  organized  for  collective 
bargaining  and  the  control  of  retail  trade,  as  the  gilds  merchant 
of  England.  In  the  first  instance,  the  importance  of  the  town 
grew  out  of  the  handicrafts  which,  starting  in  a  humble  way  for 
the  supply  of  a  local  demand,  finally  sent  their  wares  into  all  parts 
of  Europe.  Usually  such  a  town  had  several  important  trades, 
and  the  supervision  of  its  commerce  was  assumed  by  a  sort  of 
federation  of  the  several  craft  gilds.  We  must  remember  that 
the  early  craftsmen  were  merchants  at  well  as  manufacturers, 
displaying  their  wares  on  the  counters  of  their  own  shops  and 
at  the  weekly  markets  and  the  fairs.  In  the  second  instance, 
we  find  trade  preceding  manufactures.  Here  the  wandering 
traders  transformed  their  caravan  organization  into  a  merchant 
gild  which  continued  to  protect  the  traveling  merchants  from 
brigands  and  arbitrary  seigneurs,  and  also  promoted  and  con- 
trolled the  commerce  of  their  city.  The  third  class  of  associa- 
tions naturally  arose  in  communities  which  carried  on  a  local 
trade.  Since  the  trade  with  distant  places  was  largely  in  the 
hands  of  foreigners,  the  function  of  the  native  merchant  was  to 
gather  up  the  products  demanded  by  the  foreign  trader,  to  distri- 

»  Gilds  were  not  found  in  southern  Germany  and  in  many  French  cities; 
but  where  they  were  lacking  the  necessities  of  trade  compelled  the  merchants  to 
form  analogous,  if  looser,  organizations  to  take  their  place.  Cf.  numerous  authori- 
ties cited  by  Pirenne,  Revue  historique,  LVII,  8i. 


223  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

bute  the  foreign  goods  received  in  exchange  for  these,  and  to 
carry  on  the  local  trade  which  centered  in  his  town. 

The  associations  of  this  last  class  have  received  a  greater 
emphasis  than  the  others  because  of  the  attempt  of  a  certain 
writer — to  whom  attention  will  be  directed  later — to  trace  a  con- 
nection between  the  gild  merchant  and  the  craft  gild  and  between 
the  latter  and  the  trade  union.  In  reality,  the  Enghsh  gild  mer- 
chant had  much  less  to  do  with  the  development  of  commercial 
institutions  than  the  continental  gilds  had.  In  England,  where 
the  operations  of  the  merchants  were  more  restricted  than  else- 
where, because  the  foreign  trade  was  in  the  hands  of  foreign  mer- 
chants, the  gild  merchant  had  for  its  principal  function  collective 
purchase  and  sale  in  the  interest  of  its  members.^  The  origin 
of  these  associations  is  lost  in  obscurity.  It  certainly  antedated 
the  Conquest  in  some  cases.  The  merchant  gild  may  have  been 
a  company  of  travehng  merchants  before  the  settlement  in  a 
town.  It  may  have  been  organized  for  the  sole  purpose  of  con- 
ducting collective  bargaining,  after  the  merchants  who  had  settled 
in  a  given  place  had  secured  their  town  charter.  The  latter  was 
certainly  the  case  in  the  later  towns.  Sometimes,  at  least,  it 
included  all  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  town.*  Where  the  gild 
was  of  this  character,  it  could  not  have  had  much  significance  in 
the  development  of  commerce,  however  valuable  it  may  have 
been  in  securing  favorable  retail  prices  for  the  inhabitants.  The 
later  charters  usually  grant  the  towns  the  right  to  have  gilds  mer- 
chant along  with  the  other  privileges  which  were  supposed  to  be 
essential  to  urban  life;  but  the  fact  that  the  gild  merchants  are 
frequently  the  product  of  royal  grants  does  not  prove  that  they 
did  not,  in  the  beginning,  antedate  the  organization  of  towns. 
Even  after  the  gilds  became  creatures  of  the  law  and  seemed 
most  important  as  regulators  of  the  local  markets,  they  continued 
to  serve  commerce  by  securing  its  exemption  from  petty  burdens 
in  all  parts  of  the  kingdom.     It  is  a  mistake  to  take  the  view  of 

I  For  numerous  instances  of  combined  purchase,  vide  Gross,  GUd  Merchant, 
II,  65,  67,  122,  123,  133,  165,  etc.,  especially  p.  67  in  case  of  the  Dublin  gild. 

» Ibid.,  I,  107. 


THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  COMMERCE  223 

Gross,  that  the  gild  merchant  was  essentially  a  narrow  and  exclu- 
sive association  which  simply  "shackled  free  commercial  inter- 
course."^ Free  commercial  intercourse  was  an  impossibility  until 
the  end  of  the  Middle  Ages ;  and  at  the  beginning  of  the  develop- 
ment of  any  commercial  movement  there  could  have  been  no 
commercial  intercourse  at  all,  had  it  not  been  for  these  commercial 
associations.  Gross  forms  his  judgment  of  the  gild  when  it  had 
reached  its  aristocratic  form,  and  reads  this  back  into  the  earher 
period  when  it  had  a  real  function.  The  important  work  of  the 
gild  merchant  had  been  completed  by  the  time  it  had  estabUshed 
itself  as  an  exclusive  association.  As  time  went  on,  the  gild 
became  less  important,  until,  by  the  fifteenth  century,  it  had  dis- 
appeared in  many  places,  in  others  had  been  merged  into  a  com- 
pany of  merchant  adventurers,  while  in  general  it  "coalesced 
with  the  town  organization  so  completely  that  it  became  a  mere 
term  to  designate  the  privileges  of  the  whole  body  of  burgesses.'" 
The  merchant  associations  of  Flanders  and  northern  France 
played  a  much  more  important  part  than  those  of  England, 
because  their  members  had  so  much  wider  commercial  interests. 
Some  of  these  associations  had  a  very  early  origin.  The  Mar- 
chands  de  VEau  of  Paris  may  have  been  the  direct  descendants 
of  the  N antes  of  Roman  times.  Louis  VI,  in  1121,  granted  them 
certain  privileges  as  a  company  already  ancient.^  Their  earlier 
activity  had  to  do  with  the  provisioning  of  Paris  from  distant 
fields  along  the  Seine,  but  they  became  important  on  account  of 
their  general  commercial  activity.  The  gild  of  St.  Omer  was 
officially  recognized  by  Wulfric  Rabel  as  early  as  1072.*  This 
would  push  the  beginnings  of  this  association  back  to  the  tenth 
century.  The  few  cases  of  this  sort  of  which  records  are  pre- 
served are  very  good  evidence  of  the  early  origin  of  others  where 
conditions  were  similar.     Throughout  Flanders,  which  had  become 

^  Ibid.,  chap,  iii,  especially  p.  50. 

2  Seligman,  "Two  Chapters  on  the  Mediaeval  Guilds  of  England,"   Publica- 
tions of  the  American  Economic  Association,  II,  425. 

3  Levasseur,  op.  cit.,  I,  192. 

4  Gross,  of.  cit.,  I,  290  ff. 


224  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

the  greatest  industrial  and  commercial  region  of  northern  Europe, 
and  in  Normandy,  where  commerce  had  become  important  by 
the  time  of  the  conquest  of  England,  the  commercial  interests  of 
the  towns  and  the  protection  of  trade  on  land  and  water  were  in  the 
hands  of  these  voluntary  associations.  By  the  thirteenth  century, 
they  had  become  so  important  that  they  engaged  in  bitter  conflicts 
as  rivals,  or,  uniting  in  the  Hanse  of  London,  began  to  threaten 
to  break  away  from  all  political  allegiance. 

The  Italian  merchant  associations  will  receive  attention  in 
connection  with  our  consideration  of  the  ItaUan  cities.  These 
usually  originated  as  artisans'  gilds,  and  as  the  industries  became 
more  extensive  the  more  important  members  ceased  to  ply  their 
crafts  and  became  virtual  entrepreneurs ^  while  remaining  the  ruUng 
members  of  the  craft  gilds.  A  federation  of  the  greater  gilds, 
each  of  which  simply  voiced  the  will  of  the  merchants  deaUng  in 
its  products,  served  as  the  gild  merchant  of  the  city.  \ 

While  purely  voluntary  associations,  the  early  merchant  gilds 
sought  to  induce  all  merchants  having  common  interests  to  be- 
come members;  and,  on  the  other  hand,  the  necessities  of  com- 
merce were  such  that  to  refuse  to  enter  was  to  cut  oneself  oflF 
from  the  only  means  of  protection  and  to  drop  into  a  position 
of  manifest  inferiority.^  Consequently  all  merchants  of  impor- 
tance became  members  of  the  associations.  Those  who  for  any 
reason  attempted  to  act  as  independent  individuals  could  not 
survive.  But  the  aristocratization  of  the  associations  was  as 
natural  as  their  free  beginning  had  been.  When  they  had 
become  privileged  companies,  they  naturally  limited  their  mem- 
bership and  exploited  other  classes  of  the  community.  The 
advantages  of  limited  membership  becoming  apparent,  the  mer- 
chants maintained  their  organizations  after  the  establishment  of 
order  and  the  development  of  communal  government  had  ren- 
dered them  unnecessary.  The  associations  of  merchants  fre- 
quenting the  Seine  and  the  Loire  lost  their  raison  d'etre  after  the 
conquests  of  Phihp  Augustus  had  consolidated  the  sovereignty 
of  the  regions  in  which  they  operated.     The  rival  associations 

»  Pirenne,  Revue  historique,  LVII,  82,  83. 


THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  COMMERCE  225 

of  the  Loire  were  blended  by  the  end  of  the  thirteenth  century; 
but  the  rivahry  between  the  Parisian  and  Rouenese  hanses  could 
not  be  overcome  in  the  same  way.  The  hanse  of  Rouen  was 
suppressed  by  an  ordinance  of  Philip  IV  in  1292,  It  revived 
again,  but  was  finally  abolished  by  Louis  X  in  131 5.  The  mis- 
fortunes of  the  Rouenese  were  due  to  the  influence  and  power 
of  the  Parisian  association,  and  the  latter  abused  its  triumph. 
The  latter  was  overruled  in  its  pretensions  by  the  Parhament  of 
1385,  and  practically  abohshed  by  Louis  XI  in  1461.^  This 
greatest  of  French  merchant  gilds  thus  maintained  its  existence 
for  fully  two  centuries  after  it  had  ceased  to  perform  any  useful 
social  service.  Its  members  simply  enjoyed  an  important  mo- 
nopoly. By  the  thirteenth  century  the  gild  of  St.  Omer,  one  of  the 
most  famous  of  the  Flemish  associations,  had  become  a  syndi- 
cate of  capitahsts,  not  even  comprising  all  the  great  merchants 
of  the  city,  but  only  those  who  traded  with  England.*  It 
was  the  same  in  the  other  Flemish  cities,  whose  gilds,  federated 
under  the  name  of  the  Hanse  of  London,  kept  a  monoply  of  the 
commerce  with  England.  In  England  the  gild  merchant  was  a 
useful  institution  so  long  as  all  members  of  the  merchant  com- 
munity were  included  in  its  membership;  but  in  time  it  became 
exclusive,  securing  for  its  limited  membership  a  monoply  of  the 
right  of  combined  purchasing  and  of  retailing  of  foreign  products 
in  its  town. 3  By  the  time  of  Edward  III  the  gilds  merchant 
were  becoming  aristocratic  and  oppressive.  In  Florence  the 
federation  of  greater  gilds  having  to  do  with  foreign  commerce 
soon  became  aristocratic,  practically  ignoring  the  interests  of 
all  other  trades  and  even  of  their  own  artisans.  As  a  rule,  neither 
kings  nor  sovereign  dukes  and  counts  thought  of  destroying 
corporations  which  had  now  become  ancient  and  powerful,  pro- 
vided they  would  recognize  the  sovereign  power.  In  return  for 
loyalty  the  associations  received  legal  sanction  for  their  monopo- 
listic poHcy.  "It  was  thus  that  the  Hanse  of  Rouen,  the  Mar- 
chandise  de  VEau  of  Paris,  the  Jurade  of  Bordeaux,  the  Batellerie 

'  Pigeonneau,  op.  cit.,  I,  176-80;  Levasseur,  op.  cit.,  I,  285-96. 
'  Giry,  St.  Omer,  413;   Pirenne,  Revue  historique,  LVII,  84. 
3  Gross,  op.  cit.,  I,  42. 


226  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

of  Orleans,  Saumur,  Angers,  and  Nantes,  after  having  consti- 
tuted themselves  at  first  for  defense  and  by  private  initiative  only 
were  transformed  into  monopoUes  and  privileged  companies 
officially  recognized."^  It  was  the  same  story  everywhere. 
The  Marchandise  de  VEau  of  Paris  and  Rouen,  the  gilds  mer- 
chant of  England,  the  Gewandschneider  of  Magdeburg  and 
Brunswick,  the  Seven  Greater  Gilds  of  Florence,  ahke  exercised 
powers,  originally  acquired  in  genuine  social  service,  for  the  mere 
aggrandizement  of  their  aristocratic  members. 

Of  no  less  importance  in  the  development  of  modern  industry 
were  the  craft  gilds.  The  place  of  these  organizations  has  been 
rendered  somewhat  obscure  by  the  hasty  conclusions  of  Bren- 
tano'  and  others  who  have  been  more  interested  in  the  form 
in  which  the  craft  gilds  first  appeared  than  in  the  function  they 
performed.  It  has  been  attempted  to  show  that  the  oppression 
of  the  craftsmen  by  the  wealthy  members  of  the  merchant  associa- 
tions rendered  it  necessary  for  the  former  to  organize  gilds  of  their 
own  for  self-protection.  But  such  a  conflict  was  not  universal, 
to  say  the  least,  and  in  England,  where  the  craft  gilds  had  their 
largest  development,  it  did  not  take  place  at  all.^  There  is  no 
evidence  that  these  associations  were  formed  by  lower,  semi- 
servile  classes  of  workmen  or  by  men  who  had  been  excluded 
from  the  merchant  gilds  because  they  did  not  belong  to  the  new 
aristocracy.  In  some  towns  there  were  craft  gilds,  but  no  gilds 
merchant  at  all;  in  others  the  former  came  into  existence  before 
the  latter;    in  still  others  the  craft  gilds  and  the  merchant  gilds 

I  Pigeonneau,  op.  cit.,  I,  177. 

*  First  given  in  his  essay  On  the  History  and  Development  of  Gilds  and  the 
Origin  of  Trade-Unions,  written  in  1870  as  an  introduction  to  the  collection  of 
gild-regulations  compiled  by  Toulmin-Smith.  This  was  followed  by  a  more 
mature  work,  Arbeitergilden  der  Gegenwart.  Brentano's  position  was  undermined 
by  Ochenkowski  (Englands  wirtschaftliche  Entwickelung  am  Ausgange  des  Mit- 
telalters),  and  finally  overthrown  by  Gross  {The  Gild  Merchant),  as  Brentano 
himself  admits  ("Entwicklung  und  Geist  der  englischen  Arbeiterorganisationen," 
Archiv  filr  soziale  Gesetzgebung  und  Statistik,  VIII,  79,  80).  Seligman's  essay, 
above  cited,  gives  the  best  brief  discussion  of  the  question. 

3  Ochenkowski,  op.  cit.,  55-58. 


THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  COMMERCE  227 

arose  at  the  same  time.^  We  have  no  records  of  the  expulsion 
of  the  craftsmen  from  the  merchant  association.  On  the  other 
hand,  we  find  numerous  instances  where  men  held  membership 
in  both  classes  of  associations.'  Indeed,  there  was  every 
reason  why  this  simultaneous  membership  should  be  quite 
common.  If  the  association  had  been  formed  primarily  by 
traders,  some  of  these  traders  were  pretty  sure,  in  time,  to  find 
it  profitable  to  produce  some  of  the  goods  handled  by  them. 
They  would  remain  merchants,  for  the  early  manufacturer  usually 
disposed  of  his  own  product.  His  continued  interest  in  matters 
of  trade  would  keep  him  in  the  merchant  association;  but  his 
interest  in  the  orderly  conduct  and  protection  of  his  special  busi- 
ness would  lead  him  to  associate  with  others  who  had  similar 
interests  in  the  organization  of  a  craft  gild.  If,  on  the  other 
hand,  the  trader  had  been  first  a  manufacturer  of  wares  which 
he  sold  over  his  counter  and  at  the  fairs,  the  expansion  of  his 
business  would  render  it  necessary  for  him  to  unite  with  other 
traders,  in  whatsoever  commodities,  who  belonged  in  the  same 
community  and  frequented  the  same  routes.  Otherwise,  he 
would  not  have  enjoyed  the  privileges  of  combined  purchase  at 
home  or  of  protection  against  robbers  and  feudal  exactions 
abroad.  Without  such  protection  he  could  not  have  continued 
long  in  business.  So  we  find  merchant  associations  of  both 
sorts.  In  neither  case  was  it  unnatural  for  a  man  to  belong 
to  a  merchant  and  a  craft  gild  at  the  same  time.  In  all  prob- 
ability most  persons  who  were  engaged  in  trade  and  industry 
belonged  to  both.  The  growing  division  of  labor  resulted  in 
the  separation  of  certain  of  the  craftsmen  from  the  merchant 
associations;  for  many  of  them  came  to  be  solely  manufacturers, 
disposing  of  their  products  to  men  who  were  solely  merchants, 
or  who,  still  craftsmen,  had  to  do  with  but  one,  usually  the  final, 
of  many  processes  through  which  the  commodity  had  to  pass, 
and  who  either  took  the  unfinished  product  from  aUied  crafts 
or  furnished  the  materials  on  which  men  in  allied  crafts  worked. 

I  Seligman,  op.  cU.,  436,  437. 
»  Ibid.,  437,  438. 


2a8  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

Thus,  when  certain  members  of  a  merchant  association  became 
wholly  absorbed  by  industry  and  no  longer  sold  their  own  prod- 
uct, they  ceased  to  take  an  interest  in  the  affairs  of  the  gild 
merchant  and  retired  of  their  own  accord.^  When  the  mer- 
chant gild  became  aristocratic  and  came  to  control  the  policy  of 
the  city  in  the  interest  of  the  trade  in  which  it  was  engaged,  as 
was  the  case  in  Florence  and  most  of  the  Hanseatic  cities,  the 
crafts  which  supplied  the  purely  local  demands  and  the  merchants 
whose  trade  was  not  fostered  naturally  felt  some  resentment. 
The  conflicts  between  the  merchant  and  craft  gilds  was  caused 
by  this  conflict  of  interests,  rather  than  the  overbearing  conduct 
of  the  great  merchants  toward  the  craftsmen  who  worked  for 
them. 

The  best  view  of  the  origin  of  the  craft  gilds  seems  to  be  that 
taken  in  this  essay  concerning  the  origin  of  various  other  asso- 
ciations, namely,  that  common  pursuits  and  common  economic 
conditions  will  cause  the  formation  of  groups  having  common 
characteristics,  whatever  may  have  been  the  starting-point  from 
which  the  organization  began.  It  can  not  be  proved  that  any 
of  the  craft  gilds  were  the  direct  descendants  of  the  Roman 
artisans'  colleges.  Since  the  Roman  collegia  were  little  more 
than  organs  of  society  by  which  the  laborers  could  be  controlled 
and  since  mediaeval  society  was  incapable  of  controlling  industry, 
it  is  a  priori  probable  that  these  associations  which  existed  primar- 
ily to  promote  the  welfare  of  the  workmen''  had  an  origin  as 
independent  of  the  Roman  college  as  it  was  of  the  Egyptian  labor 
organization.  Yet  in  communities  where  bodies  of  artisans  were 
carried  over  from  Roman  times,  associations  sometimes  sprang 
up  at  such  an  early  date  that  the  new  gild  must  have  been  formed 
by  men  who  were  not  wholly  ignorant  of  the  Roman  organiza- 
tions. The  Altino  Chronicle  proves  that  well-defined  gilds  of 
ministeria  existed  in  Venice  as  far  back  as  the  ninth  century. ' 
Possibly  the  Parisian  hanse  was  originally  a  Roman  collegium 

I  Pirenne,  Revue  historique,  LVII,  84. 

»  Cf.  Levasseur,  op.  cit.,  I,  195. 

3  Villari,  The  Two  First  Centuries  of  Florentine  History,  I,  127,  128. 


THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  COMMERCE  229 

of  boatmen  on  the  Seine,  Yet,  even  in  such  cases,  the  association 
underwent  such  a  transformation  that  we  may  conclude  that  the 
craft  gild  had  an  independent  origin. 

Wherever  artisan  populations  were  gathered  together  artisan 
associations  were  boimd  to  spring  up,  especially  since  aU  kinds 
of  gilds  were  being  formed  for  mutual  assistance  and  protection. 
The  prosperity  of  agriculture  led  to  increased  wants  on  the  part  of 
the  wealthy  proprietors,  and  these  in  turn  resulted  in  an  increased 
nimiber  of  workmen  in  the  manor.  Some  of  the  English  manor- 
rolls  contain  long  lists  of  artisans.  In  some  cases  special  officials 
were  necessary  to  supervise  these  new  workmen  who  were  drawn 
from  the  villein  class  and  worked  in  the  manorial  village.  There 
is  no  evidence  that  any  of  these  groups  of  village  artisans  formed 
combinations.^  Indeed,  the  character  of  the  manorial  organi- 
zation was  such  that  a  craft  gild  would  not  have  been  possible 
in  a  village.  In  the  towns,  on  the  other  hand,  the  organizations 
became  practically  universal,  and  their  members  were  always 
divorced  from  every  form  of  seigneurial  connection.  But  the  gilds 
were  not  the  creation  of  the  towns,  as  some  writers  intimate." 
They  were  usually  found  only  in  the  towns,  for  only  there  could 
the  necessary  commercial  faciHties  and  security  from  feudal 
exactions  be  obtained;  but  some  crafts,  as  the  masons,  who  were 
extensively  engaged  in  castle  and  church  building  outside  of 
the  towns,  were  organized  without  any  reference  to  municipal 
authority.3  The  gilds  sprang  up  as  spontaneously  as  the  mer- 
chant associations.  The  individual  could  not  stand  alone,  and 
did  not  think  of  standing  alone.  The  guilds  were  voluntary 
associations,  but  all  artisans  felt  constrained  to  enter  them,  for 
only  thus  could  they  pursue  their  calling  in  security.  After  the  gilds 
were  estabHshed  and  the  methods  of  industry  pretty  well  worked  out, 
the  towns  could  use  the  organizations  as  pohce  agents  and  inspectors 
of  the  goods  in  the  interest  of  the  consumer ;  and  even  went  so  far 
as  to  compel  workmen  to  become  members  of  gilds. 

»  Seligman,  op.  cit.,  432,  433. 

'  Ibid.,  450-57- 

3  Cunningham,  Western  Civilization,  II,  98,  note. 


23©  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

Some  of  these  craft  gilds  must  have  had  a  very  early  origin. 
They  were  found  in  all  parts  of  western  Europe  in  the  twelfth 
century.  Weavers'  gilds  were  formed  in  England  soon  after  the 
Conquest.  Hence,  it  may  be  inferred  that  they  existed  among  the 
Normans  and  Flemings  at  an  earlier  date,  for  the  English  crafts- 
men were  immigrants.  A  charter  of  1 134  mentions  the  corporation 
of  Paris  butchers  as  already  ancient. 

There  were  weavers'  gilds  in  Marlborough,  Beverley,  and  Oxford,  as 
well  as  in  London  in  the  time  of  Henry  I,  and  there  was  a  similar  institution 
among  the  cordwainers  of  Rouen,  the  tanners  of  Ghent,  and  the  drapers  of 
Valenciennes.  Though  these  are  the  earliest  recorded  instances,  it  is  highly 
probable  that  some  similar  bodies  were  of  very  long  standing  in  certain  conti- 
nental cities.  We  have  an  account  of  the  crafts  of  Paris  in  the  thirteenth 
century,  and  when  we  see  how  largely  manufacturing  was  developed  in  that 
city  and  at  that  date,  and  how  completely  it  was  organized,  we  can  hardly 
suppose  that  the  industrial  associations  were  all  of  very  recent  growth.' 

At  first,  as  we  have  seen,  the  relations  between  the  traders 
and  the  producers  of  the  towns  was  very  close,  if,  indeed,  the 
same  persons  did  not  perform  both  functions.  After  the  com- 
merce in  important  commodities  passed  into  the  hands  of  great 
merchants,  these  remained  members  of  the  same  gilds  which 
mcluded  likewise  the  humblest  craftsmen.  Gradually,  however, 
the  trading  and  the  producing  classes  became  differentiated  from 
each  other.  For  example,  so  long  as  the  Italian  merchants 
handled  the  greater  part  of  the  product  of  the  textile  industries 
of  northern  Europe,  the  local  traders  had  so  limited  a  sphere  of 
operations  that  they  remained  predominatingly  craftsmen;  but 
after  the  Italian  influence  began  to  wane  and  the  commerce  of 
the  northern  towns  began  to  expand  to  large  proportions,  certain 
men  connected  with  the  industry  became  simply  cloth-dealers.' 
These  naturally  came  to  occupy  the  most  advantageous  position 
in  the  industry  and  were  able  to  assume  the  r61e  of  capitalists, 
employing  the  craftsmen  as  wage-earners  or  distributing  to  them 
the  raw  materials  on  which  they  worked.^     It  was  long  before 

I  Cunningham,  op.  cU.,  95,  96. 

a  Ashley,  "The  Early  History  of  the  English  Woollen  Industry,"  Publications 
of  the  American  Economic  Association,  II,  355,  356. 
3  Pirenne,  Revue  historique,  LVII,  85,  86. 


THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  COMMERCE  231 

capital  played  a  very  important  part;  but  the  gilds  which  dealt 
in  the  finished  product  tended  to  become  oligarchical  associa- 
tions which  controlled  the  trade  policy  of  the  towns  and  united 
together  in  the  Hanse  of  London.  When  the  other  gilds  sought  to 
protect  their  interests,  they  were  often  treated  most  harshly  by  the 
wealthy  merchants  who  desired  to  control  the  entire  industry  of 
their  towns.  Where,  as  in  England,  industry  developed  slowly 
and  where  the  craft  gilds  were  sometimes  differentiated  from 
the  traders'  associations,  the  craft  gilds  were  left  undisturbed 
by  local  antagonisms  until  they  had  gained  strength.  As  busi- 
ness increased  and  the  craftsmen  desired  to  dispense  with  the 
privileged  intermediaries  and  to  engage  directly  in  retail  trade, 
friction  arose  between  the  craft  and  merchant  gilds.  ^  But  this 
friction  was  not  so  serious  as  that  on  the  Continent  between  the 
classes  interested  in  general  trade  and  those  interested  in  local 
trade. 

The  craft  gilds  always  desired  two  things:  the  control  of  the 
technique  and  the  control  of  the  product.  The  latter  consisted 
chiefly  in  regulations  concerning  the  quality  of  the  goods  pro- 
duced by  the  members.  This  regard  for  quality  was  so  mani- 
festly in  the  interest  of  the  consumer  that  some  writers  have 
supposed  that  the  gilds  could  never  have  made  their  regula- 
tions from  self-interest,  but  must  have  been  required  by  the 
municipal  or  central  power  to  act  as  inspectors.  But  we  must 
remember  that  it  may  be  to  the  interest  of  the  whole  industry 
to  have  honest  goods  produced,  while  the  individual  producer 
may  secure  an  extraordinary  profit  by  selling  adulterated  goods 
or  giving  short  measure.  When  prices  are  fixed  with  reference 
to  honest  goods,  the  man  who  can  sell  dishonest  goods  at  the 
prevailing  price  profits  by  the  general  reputation  which  honest 
men  have  won  for  the  goods  in  which  he  deals — until  he  has 
ruined  his  own  market.  There  were  two  reasons  why  the  indi- 
vidual should  be  prevented  from  profiting  by  departures  from 
the  recognized  standards  of   his  craft.     In  the  first  place,   his 

I  Ashley,  "Beginnings  of  Town  Life,"  Quarterly  Journal  of  Economics,  X, 
404,  405. 


232  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

fellow-craftsmen  would  not  tolerate  such  competition.  Compe- 
tition, at  least  within  a  local  area,  was  not  tolerated  during  the 
Middle  Ages.  The  "just  price"  could  be  charged;  no  more, 
no  less.  Every  dealer  was  to  have  the  trade  which  his  own 
industry  secured,  and  to  receive  the  reward  which  that  volume 
of  trade  could  bring  at  the  customary  prices.  His  fellow-crafts- 
men would  not  tolerate  a  cut  in  prices  which  might  increase  the 
volume  of  his  business;  nor  would  they  permit  a  departure  from 
the  accepted  standards  which  might  increase  his  profits  at  the 
established  prices.  This  rule  of  custom  was  characteristic  of 
the  whole  period  from  the  establishment  of  the  mediaeval  economy 
until  the  Renaissance.  The  inspection  under  gild  rules  would 
prevent  improvements  as  well  as  deterioration.  Changes  could 
take  place  gradually,  but  the  tendency  was  to  resist  them.  If 
new  departures  were  to  be  made,  new  associations  had  to  be 
formed  to  support  them.  In  the  second  place,  the  inspection 
was  considered  necessary  to  prevent  unscrupulous  workmen 
from  putting  out  goods  that  would  ruin  the  reputation  of  the 
trade  or  the  town.  The  profits  which  the  single  unscrupulous 
producer  might  realize  before  he  drove  away  his  own  customers 
might  compensate  him  for  the  loss  of  business  that  would  follow ; 
but  the  whole  craft  or  the  whole  community  could  not  thus  profit. 
So  the  craft,  in  the  interest  of  maintaining  its  own  reputation, 
made  and  enforced  rules  against  dishonest  workmanship  and 
short  measure;  and,  later,  when  the  whole  community  came  to 
be  dominated  by  commercial  interests  and  to  appreciate  the  social 
importance  of  all  its  industries,  the  gilds  were  authorized,  or 
even  required,  to  see  that  all  goods  were  properly  inspected,  and 
craftsmen  were  forbidden  to  ply  their  trades  at  all  unless  they 
identified  themselves  with  their  proper  gilds.  Competition,  which 
was  forbidden  within  small  areas,  was  quite  keen  in  the  wider 
markets ;  and  the  industry  of  a  given  locality  might  be  ruined  by 
selling  goods  below  the  standard  for  which  the  place  had  become 
noted. 

This  seems  to  be  a  rational  explanation  of  the  gild  regulations 
concerning  the  quality  of  the  goods  produced  by  the  craftsmen 


THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  COMMERCE  233 

and  of  the  municipal  laws  which  sanctioned  or  required  the 
inspection.  It  was  entirely  to  the  interest  of  the  whole  craft  to 
prevent  what  an  individual  might  find  profitable.  It  likewise 
became  of  importance  to  the  towns  to  maintain  the  reputation 
of  their  crafts.  The  gilds  became  useful  agents  of  the  towns  in 
the  enforcement  of  certain  important  features  of  municipal  policy; 
but  this  does  not  mean  that  they  were  not  a  natural  development 
of  the  economic  activities  themselves.  The  towns  simply  took 
advantage  of  these  institutions,  co-operating  with  them  in  the 
enforcement  of  a  poUcy  in  which  the  interests  of  the  community 
and  those  of  the  craft  coincided.  Individuals  were  compelled 
to  join  the  gilds,  but  there  was  no  compulsory  formation  of  the 
gilds  themselves.  All  craftsmen  were  compelled  to  conform  to 
gild  regulations,  but  the  regulations  were  the  work  of  the  gilds 
and  were  not  imposed  upon  them  by  municipal  authority.  The 
interest  of  both  gilds  and  towns  was  in  the  prosperity  of  trade, 
not  in  the  welfare  of  consumers,  though  it  may  be  assumed  that 
the  towns  were  not  altogether  unmindful  of  the  welfare  of  their 
own  citizens. 

The  acceptance  of  gild  regulations  by  the  cities  and  the  require- 
ment that  all  craftsmen  must  be  members  of  gilds  marks  the 
triumph  of  these  organizations.  They  also  mark  the  beginning 
of  the  time  when  the  gilds  were  no  longer  so  necessary  as  during 
their  struggles,  and  when  they  might  do  industry  more  harm  than 
good.  Starting  as  purely  voluntary  associations  into  which  any 
capable  workmen  could  enter,  with  regulations  that  were  intended 
simply  to  promote  the  general  interests  of  the  crafts,  they  tended 
to  become  close  corporations  with  restrictive  apprenticeship 
rules  and  to  abuse  their  supervisory  power  by  preventing  progress. 
Rules  limiting  the  number  of  apprentices  and  journeymen  to 
be  employed  by  one  master  and  determining  the  duration  of 
apprenticeship  had  as  their  end  the  monopoly  control  of  the  tech- 
nique of  the  industry.  So  long  as  these  rules  could  be  enforced, 
the  gilds  were  safe;  but  when  the  technique  became  less  of  a 
"mystery,"  their  position  became  insecure  and  they  sought  to 
strengthen  it  by  violent  methods  or  by  securing  legislation  to 


234  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

enforce  their  rules.  Such  efforts  were  a  confession  that  the 
technique  was  already  becoming  common  property.  The  regu- 
lations tended  to  be  directed  toward  the  preservation  of  a  status 
quOy  rather  than  the  protection  of  the  consumer  from  incapable 
or  unscrupulous  producers  and  the  maintenance  of  the  good 
name  of  the  trade.  Since  economic  conditions  did  not  change 
rapidly  for  some  time,  this  continuance  of  gild  life  did  no  great 
harm  until  the  period  immediately  preceding  the  Industrial  Revo- 
lution. But  the  gild,  as  an  institution  which  eiffected  the  necessary 
mediation  between  the  individual  and  society,  had  done  its  work 
and  was  now  really  obstructing  the  free  functioning  of  the  whole 
economic  society  through  the  individual. 

During  the  commercial  period  which  we  are  now  discussing 
the  feudal  character  of  society  was  not  lost,  although  some  feudal 
institutions  which  were  adapted  only  to  the  agricultural  age  had 
to  be  modified  or  destroyed  wherever  commerce  became  impor- 
tant. The  towns  demanded  a  certain  independence,  but  it  was 
simply  independence  of  manorial  rules.  There  was  no  objection 
to  the  recognition  of  a  feudal  superior  and  the  payment  of  reason- 
able tribute,  provided  the  internal  economy  of  the  town  was  free 
from  his  interference  and  commerce  was  not  subjected  to  undue 
burdens.  Within  the  towns  we  find  the  individual  subject  to 
general  municipal  law  in  many  of  his  activities,  but  his  economic 
activities  were  subject  to  the  control  of  his  gild.  Thus  the  agri- 
cultural hierarchy  of  duke,  lord,  manor,  individual,  was  replaced 
by  a  commercial  hierarchy  of  duke  or  king,  commune,  gild,  indi- 
vidual. Under  the  former  regime,  the  individual  was  bound  to 
remain  under  the  jurisdiction  of  the  lord,  but  his  economic  activi- 
ties were  free  from  all  control  except  that  of  manorial  custom; 
under  the  latter,  the  individual  was  subject  to  general  municipal 
regulations,  but  his  economic  life  was  practically  free  from  all 
control  except  that  of  his  gild.  The  manor  had  a  territorial  definite- 
ness  that  was  impossible  in  the  case  of  the  gild,  but  each  gild 
had  its  quarter  in  the  town  practically  under  its  own  control.  A 
mixed  relationship  seems  to  enter  where  the  same  individual 
was  a  member  of  the  craft  gild  and  a  merchant  association,  but 


THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  COMMERCE  235 

here  each  sphere  of  activity  was  pretty  definitely  separated  from 
the  other;  and  cases  are  not  altogether  unknown,  in  later  times 
at  least,  where  the  same  indvidual  worked  tenures  on  two  manors. 

There  were  two  reasons  for  this  paralleHsm,  First,  the  feudal 
structure  naturally  tended  to  persist.  The  mediaeval  territorial 
system  was  not  done  away  when  the  towns  were  carved  out  of  it. 
It  was  taken  as  a  matter  of  course  that  the  hierarchical  system 
of  allegiance  and  control  should  be  appUed  wherever  men  lived 
in  communities.  In  the  second  place,  the  character  of  commerce 
rendered  it  impossible  for  the  individual  to  carry  on  his  business 
alone.  No  single  individual  could  produce  enough  to  enable 
him  to  come  into  direct  and  individual  relations  with  distant 
markets,  nor  did  any  individual  find  it  possible,  in  the  absence 
of  adequate  protection  by  pubhc  law,  to  carry  on  his  operations 
without  the  support  of  his  fellow-tradesmen. 

Now  the  office  of  both  merchant  and  craft  gilds  was  to  secure 
for  the  individual  a  freedom  within  his  calling.  The  individual 
exists  in  so  far  as  the  social  values  of  his  actions  are  present  in 
his  consciousness.  During  the  whole  mediaeval  period,  as  we 
have  seen,  the  individual  was  too  feeble  and  his  activity  too 
resticted  to  permit  of  such  a  recognition  except  in  an  emotional 
way.  The  gap  between  this  ideal  valuation  and  the  real  condi- 
tions was  bridged  by  the  magic  of  the  Church,  But  in  the  course 
of  the  industrial  development  this  emotional  consciousness  of 
social  relationships  was  being  supplemented  or  replaced  by  the 
reahzation  of  actual  organic  relationships  in  the  daily  activity  of 
the  individual.  Yet  the  value  of  this  activity  of  the  individual 
was  not  at  first  consciously  realized,  and  there  was  therefore  no 
true  recognition  of  individuality.  But  the  individual  was  carry- 
ing on  activities  which  were  outside  of  the  political  organization 
of  society,  and  he  was  therefore  free  in  a  sense  in  which  the  ancient 
artisan  never  was.  Yet  he  could  not  stand  alone  in  his  industrial 
activity,  but  had  to  be  supported  and  controlled  by  his  gild.  The. 
gild  was  free  in  the  control  of  its  own  technique,  but  the  indi- 
vidual was  not.  There  could  be  no  political  control,  no  system  of 
slavery,  but  there  had  to  be  gild  management.     The  modem 


236  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

trade  union  is  an  association  of  individuals  who  constitute  them- 
selves an  association  because  they  feel  their  own  relationship  to 
their  employers  and  to  society.  The  gild  was  the  spontaneous 
aggregation  of  individuals  who  had  been  drawn  out  of  the  old 
order  and  who  found  themselves  pursuing  common  activities. 
Into  this  institution  men  were  bom,  or  adopted,  or  coerced,  as 
into  a  primitive  tribe.  IndividuaHty  was  growing  all  the  while, 
but  the  individual  was  supported  by  this  institution  and  by  it 
directed  in  the  performance  of  his  duties.  There  was  no  individual 
who,  feeling  that  he  expressed  certain  social  values,  joined  with 
others  of  the  same  sort  to  realize  them  more  fully.  Just  as  the 
agricultural  slave  became  a  serf  when  the  control  of  the  technique 
of  agriculture  passed  over  to  the  agriculturists,  themselves  organ- 
ized as  manorial  groups;  so  the  serf  became  a  freeman  when 
the  control  of  the  technique  of  the  industrial  arts  was  fully  vested 
in  the  artisans  themselves,  organized  as  gilds.  But  this  freedom 
was  not  yet  complete.  The  old  feudal  bonds  had  to  be  broken, 
but  the  gild  took  the  place  of  the  manor;  and  up  to  the  time  of 
the  Reformation  the  control  of  the  individual's  hfe  had  to  be  in 
the  hands  of  an  outside  authority — in  this  case  the  institution 
of  the  gild — which  mediated  between  the  indvidual  and  the 
world-wide  society. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  product  of  industry  was,  quahtatively 
at  least,  becoming  more  and  more  under  the  control  of  every 
individual,  because  of  the  change  from  the  commerce  of  luxuries 
to  one  of  necessaries  and  comforts  of  endless  variety.  Standards 
of  comfort  were  developed  which  the  individual  was  able  to  reach 
through  the  control  of  his  technique  secured  by  his  gild.  These 
standards  being  capable  of  gradual  and  indefinite  expansion,  the 
increasing  prosperity  of  the  merchant  or  artisan  led  to  better 
and  better  living.  A  pecuniary  emulation  was  set  up  which  did 
much  to  develop  the  sense  of  individuality.  But  here  also  the 
gild  would  interfere — co-operating  with  the  Church  and  pubHc 
opinion — to  determine  what  was  fitting  for  the  individual's  station 
in  life  and  in  harmony  with  the  economic  interests  of  the  com- 
munity.   Thus,  while  the  individual  was  coming  more  and  more 


THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  COMMERCE  237 

to  function  for  the  whole  European  society,  while  the  values  of 
the  whole  society  were  more  and  more  placed  at  his  disposal, 
while  he  was  securing  control  of  both  the  technique  and  the 
product  of  industry,  the  consciousness  of  these  facts  had  not  yet 
fully  come  to  him.  The  gild,  representing  his  industry,  was  still 
his  mediator,  as  the  Church  had  been  when  his  social  conscious- 
ness was  wholly  emotional.  But  the  commimity  was  constituted 
an  organic  whole  through  commercial  interdependence,  and  the 
individual  was  practically  an  organ  of  that  whole  society.  A 
further  development  was  to  bring  him  to  a  consciousness  of  the 
social  values  of  his  activity. 

THE  SOUTHERN  CITIES 

In  the  above  discussion  of  urban  development  the  southern 
cities  have  been  ignored  or  treated  as  lying  outside  of  the  Euro- 
pean social  movements.  They  can  not,  however,  be  ignored,  for 
their  influence  in  European  commercial  development  was  of 
wide-reaching  significance.  Neither  can  they  be  regarded  as 
lying  outside  of  Europe,  for  they  were  not  only  heirs  of  the  same 
past  that  so  greatly  influenced  the  rest  of  Europe,  but  they  were 
likewise  overwhelmed  by  the  barbarian  invasions.  Neverthe- 
less, these  communities  stand  unique  in  the  commercial  develop- 
ment of  Europe.  The  inhabitants  themselves  were  more  nearly 
lineally  descended  from  the  old  populations  than  was  the  case 
anywhere  in  the  North.  The  barbarians  who  invaded  Italy 
were  less  numerous  than  those  who  settled  in  other  parts  of  the 
Empire,  and  the  industrial  populations  of  the  miserable  towns 
which  survived  the  first  wars  were  left  to  themselves.  Some  of 
the  cities  of  southern  Italy  never  completely  lost  their  old  civic 
life.  New  cities  also  sprang  up  in  Italy,  occupying  almost  im- 
pregnable positions,  to  which  many  ItaHans  fled  from  Goth, 
Hun,  and  Lombard.  What  was  true  of  Italy  was  true  in  a  lesser 
degree  of  southern  Gaul. 

The  cities  of  southern  France. — Of  the  French  cities,  Mar- 
seilles was  by  far  the  most  important,  though  Narbonne,  Toulon, 
Aries,  Toulouse,  Bordeaux,  and  other  ancient  Roman  cities  were 


238  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

also  important  commercial  and  political  communities;  while 
Montpellier,  a  new  city  founded  during  the  Saracen  invasions 
and  situated  at  some  distance  from  the  sea,  became  a  great  empo- 
rium about  the  middle  of  the  twelfth  century,  and  Aigues-Mortes, 
a  city  developed  from  a  mere  village  by  Saint  Louis  soon  after 
the  conquest  of  lower  Languedoc  by  the  French  kings,  seemed 
at  one  time  likely  to  outstrip  all  others  in  commercial  importance. 
These  cities  were  virtual  repubhcs.  Some,  like  Marseilles  and 
Aries,  were  actual  repubhcs,  independent  of  the  kingdom  of 
France  and  of  the  county  of  Provence,  and  only  nominally  recog- 
nizing the  emperors.  Others,  as  Toulouse,  though  owing  alle- 
giance to  a  seigneur,  were  autonomous.  The  authority  of  the 
southern  counts  was  very  light,  indeed,  and  the  bourgeoisie  early 
took  rank  but  little  below  the  nobility.  At  the  beginning  of  the 
eleventh  century  Aries  and  Marseilles  alone  possessed  a  mari- 
time power  comparable  with  that  of  the  Itahan  cities.  At  that 
time  the  Greeks  still  had  a  counting-house  at  Aries — indicating 
that  some  communication  with  the  East  had  been  maintained. 
At  the  beginning  of  the  crusading  movements  Marseilles  was 
already  building  up  a  considerable  commerce  and  was  in  a  posi- 
tion to  engage  in  the  business  of  carrying  the  pilgrims  of  the 
Second  Crusade.  The  transportation  of  pilgrims  and  crusaders 
was  in  the  hands  of  private  merchants,  but  the  arrangements  for 
transportation  were  made  with  the  city  authorities,  and  rules 
were  made  for  the  government  of  the  fleets.  The  crusaders 
greatly  advanced  the  interests  of  all  maritime  cities  of  the  South. 
In  1 1 17  Marseilles  obtained  exemptions  and  special  privileges 
in  the  Christian  kingdom  of  Palestine.  Commercial  relations 
were  developed  with  all  important  Mediterranean  ports.  The 
wools  of  southern  France  and  the  cloth  of  Burgundy  and  Franche- 
Comtd  were  sent  to  Italy;  the  metals,  wines,  oil,  and  pastel  of 
Languedoc  and  Provence  and  the  soaps  manufactured  at  Mar- 
seilles were  exported  to  Syria,  Egypt,  Tunis,  and  Ceuta;  an 
extensive  commerce  was  carried  on  with  the  Moorish  cities  of 
Spain.  Vessels  returned  laden  with  the  silks,  tapestries,  spices, 
and  perfumes  of  the  Orient,  the  sugars  of  Spain,  the  skins  and 


THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  COMMERCE  239 

wools  of  Morocco,  the  fine  cloth  of  Florence  and  Milan,  the 
cereals  of  Catalonia  and  Sicily,  and  the  cottonades  of  Alexandria. 
Consuls  were  appointed  for  all  important  points  at  which  trade 
was  carried  on,  and  an  extensive  commercial  code  was  perfected 
by  1253.  The  burghers  became  wealthy  and  powerful,  and 
conducted  foreign  affairs  with  success. 

Marseilles,  like  the  other  cities  of  the  region,  was  conmiercial 
rather  than  industrial.  These  places  never  became  great  manu- 
facturing centers  Uke  the  Italian  republics  and  the  cities  of  the 
North.  They  served  rather  as  links  between  the  ItaUan  and 
the  Baltic  and  Flemish  cities  than  as  distinct  contributors  to  the 
movement  we  are  tracing.  They  also  had  both  the  strength  and 
weakness  characteristic  of  communities  which  depended  largely 
upon  a  trade  in  luxuries — but  these  may  better  be  considered  in 
connection  with  the  Italian  cities.^ 

Amalfi. — Of  the  Italian  cities  there  were  three  general  classes, 
of  which  Amalfi,  Venice,  and  Florence  may  be  taken  as  types. 
Amalfi  represents  the  survival  of  the  Greek  city,  a  mere  carrying- 
over  of  the  methods  of  Greek  commerce  to  Italy;  Venice  repre- 
sents the  new  city  clinging  to  the  past  and  holding  itself  aloof 
from  the  developments  of  barbarian  society  except  as  it  could 
trade  with  that  society.  Florence  represents  the  new  city  spring- 
ing out  of  the  midst  of  the  disorders  of  barbarian  society  and 
the  agricultural  stage  of  mediaeval  civilization. 

Amalfi  had  always  been  a  Greek  city,  and,  after  the  fall  of  the 
Western  Empire  and  the  departure  of  the  exarch  from  Ravenna, 
remained  under  the  government  of  a  duke  and  the  patrician  of 
Sicily,  both  of  whom  were  appointed  by  the  Byzantine  emperor 
until  the  tenth  century.  The  city,  like  all  others  of  the  Empire, 
had  been  modeled  after  Rome  or  had  preserved  equally  ancient 
and  republican  institutions,  and  during  the  period  of  general 
disintegration  continued  to  elect  magistrates  and  to  levy  taxes 
for  the  maintenance  of  the  public  welfare.  The  two  petty  mari- 
time cities,  Naples  and  Amalfi,  were  practically  beyond  the  reach 

'  Gebhaxt,  Les  origines  de  la  renaissance  en  Italie,  4,  5;  Pigeonneau,  op.  cii., 
I.  135-51;  Levasseur,  op.  cit.,  I,  347-49- 


240  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

of  the  barbarians.  Amalfi,  built  on  a  mountain  in  the  midst  of 
the  water  and  connected  with  the  mainland  by  a  narrow  tongue 
of  lowland,  was  easily  fortified  and  rendered  impregnable.  The 
citizens  formed  a  militia  and  submitted  to  rigid  discipUne  under 
their  elected  captains.  For  five  centuries  they  successfully  con- 
tended with  the  Lombards  of  Benevento.  The  Greek  repubhcs 
of  this  coast  and  the  Greek  Empire  were  the  only  Christian 
powers  possessing  navies.  Like  the  ancient  Phoenicians,  the 
Amalfitans  could  never  be  conquered  by  land  forces  so  long  as 
they  maintained  their  sea  power.  They  were  able  also  to  beat 
off  the  Saracens  who  attacked  them  from  the  sea. 

The  Amalfitan  vessels  poured  the  wealth  of  the  Orient  into 
the  city.  The  products  brought  from  the  East  were  exclusively 
luxuries  which  were  exchanged  for  the  necessaries  of  life  with 
the  Italian  and  Provencal  peoples.  Their  trade  became  very 
extensive  and  the  profits  were  large.  Amalfitan  shipping  interests 
constantly  expanded,  and  Amalfitan  maritime  regulations,  based 
on  the  laws  of  the  Rhodians,  became  the  basis  of  the  later  com- 
mercial jurisprudence  of  the  sea.  When  the  land  route  to  Con- 
stantinople was  cut  off  by  the  Hungarians,  the  Amalfitans  and 
their  neighbors  controlled  the  only  means  of  communication  with 
the  East. 

And  yet  these  maritime  cities  of  the  extreme  South  never  be- 
came a  part  of  Europe  proper.  They  were  identified  with  the 
old  order  so  entirely  that  their  only  function  was  to  pass  over  some 
of  the  wealth  of  the  old  world  to  the  barbarians  whom  they 
exploited.  They  never  engaged  in  manufactures,  but  were  content 
simply  to  bring  some  of  the  luxuries  of  the  Orient  into  Europe. 
Had  they  not  been  cut  off  by  political  disasters,  they  must 
nevertheless  have  seen  their  glory  pass  away  after  the  re-estab- 
lishment of  a  normal  commerce.  The  ruin  of  Amalfi  and  her 
neighbors  was  brought  about  through  their  dealings  with  the  Nor- 
mans under  Guiscard,  who  had  secured  control  of  Benevento  and 
Sicily.  Amidst  dynastic  difficulties  Naples  and  Amalfi  became 
pitted  against  each  other.  The  former  called  in  the  new  maritime 
power,  Pisa,  which  finally  completely  ruined  Amalfi.  Naples  under 


THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  COMMERCE  241 

Roger  of  Sicily  lost  her  liberty,  and — chiefly  on  account  of  the 
falsification  of  her  money — soon  lost  her  commerce  also.  By 
the  middle  of  the  twelfth  century  all  of  the  Greek  maritime  cities 
of  Italy  had  dropped  from  history.* 

Venice. — The  history  of  Venice  is  much  more  instructive  than 
that  of  the  Greek  cities.  The  city  was  established  on  its  islands 
by  the  inhabitants  of  the  mainland  who  had  fled  from  Attila,  the 
Hun.  The  islands  were  not  capable  of  high  cultivation,  and 
the  people  were  driven  to  the  development  of  the  salt  industry, 
fisheries,  and  commerce.  Completely  protected  from  the  bar- 
barians, since  the  latter  had  no  vessels,  and  even  protected  from 
maritime  powers  by  the  complex  system  of  channels  through 
which  the  city  had  to  be  approached,  the  Venetians  were  able 
to  enjoy  a  freedom  from  external  interference  unknown  to  any 
other  people  of  Europe. 

The  migration  from  Aquileia  took  place  in  452.  A  letter  of 
Cassiodorus,  praetorian  prefect  of  Theodoric,  written  to  the 
Venetian  tribunes  in  523,  indicates  that  the  city  was  already  of 
commercial  and  maritime  importance.  By  the  eighth  century 
the  Venetians  were  in  communication  with  France,  Asia  Minor, 
and  Egypt.  By  the  tenth  century  they  had  begim  to  establish 
colonies  at  points  of  advantage  in  the  various  countries  with 
which  they  traded.  Trouble  with  the  Slavonian  pirates  of  Dal- 
matia  began  in  the  sixth  century,  and  war  was  carried  on  at  inter- 
vals until  the  end  of  the  tenth  century,  when  the  greater  part  of 
the  Dalmatian  coast  was  permanently  annexed  by  Venice.  From 
this  time  the  commercial  greatness  of  Venice  was  assured.  Con- 
suls were  sent  to  all  the  Italian  cities  with  which  alliance  had 
been  made  against  the  pirates;  closer  relations  were  established 
with  the  Mohammedans  of  Syria,  Egypt,  and  North  Africa,  and 
with  the  rulers  of  Persia  and  the  Crimea;  the  "Flanders  Galleys" 
made  annual  visits  to  the  ports  of  Spain,  France,  and  England, 
going  as  far  as  Bruges;  other  fleets  visited  the  ports  of  the 
Mediterranean  and  the  Black  Sea. 

Like  all  other  Mediterranean  cities,  Venice  profited  greatly  by 

»  Sismondi,  op.  cit.,  I,  165-218. 


242  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

the  Crusades.  Perhaps  the  greatest  profit  was  reaped  from  the 
Fourth  Crusade  (1203-4).  When  the  French  crusaders  asked 
Venice  to  carry  them  to  Palestine,  the  republic  demanded  their 
help  against  its  enemies.  The  pirates  of  Zama  were  uprooted, 
and  then  Constantinople  was  taken.  Venice  took  three-eighths 
of  the  conquered  Byzantine  territory  and  the  French  took  the 
imperial  crown.  Thus  the  profitable  Venetian  trade  with  Sala- 
din's  subjects  was  not  interrupted,  the  enmity  of  the  republic  toward 
Byzantium  was  gratified,  and  many  attractive  spots  in  Greece 
and  the  islands  of  the  ^gean  were  secured.  "The  real  result 
of  the  Fourth  Crusade  was  a  great  intermingling  of  populations 
in  the  whole  country  around  the  eastern  end  of  the  Mediterranean, 
and  out  of  this  came  a  vast  impulse  to  all  the  activities  of  European 
life."^ 

Unlike  Amalfi,  Venice  became  a  manufacturing  as  well  as 
a  commercial  city.  Amalfi  seems  to  have  done  no  more  than 
transfer  products  from  one  section  to  another.  The  inhabitants 
kept  up  their  Grecian  tastes,  and,  in  so  far  as  necessary  industries 
were  carried  on — for  example,  the  building  trades — simply  repro- 
duced the  methods  employed  in  the  eastern  cities.  Now  the 
Venetians  were  equally  eastern  in  their  tastes  and  received  their 
patterns  from  Constantinople,  but  they  early  began  to  manu- 
facture for  themselves  and  their  customers  those  luxuries  of  which 
they  learned  in  the  East.  In  this  they  resembled  the  Phoenicians 
who  began  by  carrying  the  products  of  Egypt  and  Assyria  to 
Europe,  but  finally  themselves  manufactured  goods  which  were 
better  adapted  to  the  demand  they  supplied.  Naturally  the 
trades  first  established  were  those  which  had  to  do  with  the 
bulkier  commodities  and  those  not  transportable.  Eastern 
workmanship  was  always  taken  as  the  standard,  at  least  until 
new  methods  were  developed.  In  827,  when  the  church  of 
San  Zaccaria  was  restored,  an  architect  and  a  body  of  workmen 
were  imported  from  Constantinople.  The  church  of  St.  Mark's 
(1071)  is  wholly  Byzantine  in  architecture.  Gregorio,  a  priest 
from    Constantinople,    introduced    the    manufacture    of    organs 

I  Emerton,  MedicBval  Europe,  379-83. 


THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  COMMERCE  243 

before  the  end  of  the  eighth  century.  The  architecture  and 
organs  of  Venice  served  as  models  for  the  first  church-builders 
of  the  North,  and  Venetian  workmen  were  frequently  employed 
by  northern  princes  and  bishops.  For  example,  Louis  the  Pious, 
in  826,  employed  a  Venetian  priest  to  build  an  organ  at  Aix-la- 
Chapelle.  Bells  were  cast  at  Venice  as  early  as  the  ninth  century, 
apparently  without  assistance  from  the  East.  The  manufacture 
of  glass  was  begun  at  an  early  date  and  became  one  of  the  most 
famous  industries  of  the  city.  Like  the  other  industry  named 
above,  glass  manufacture  was  chiefly  important  because  of  the 
ecclesiastical  demand.  Other  ancient  and  celebrated  Venetian 
manufactures  were  cloth-of-gold  and  purple  cloth.  The  profits 
from  these  were  enormous.  The  customers  were,  of  course, 
only  the  wealthiest  nobles  and  princes.  Charlemagne  himself 
was  seldom  seen  without  a  robe  of  Venetian  manufacture.  Vari- 
ous iron  manufactures  were  likewise  important,  though  the  raw 
material  had  to  be  imported,  first  from  the  Saracens,  later  from 
Saxony.^  But  the  metal  industries  could  never  be  monopolized 
as  the  glass  industry  was.  The  most  extensive  business  was  in 
bells  and  ornamental  ironwork,  while  the  Saracens  excelled  in 
the  manufacture  of  arms. 

Without  going  into  the  details  of  Venetian  manufactures  and 
commerce,  it  is  still  easy  to  see  that  a  basis  was  furnished  for 
the  scanty  commerce  that  was  carried  on  throughout  the  agri- 
cultural period  and  for  the  more  extensive  operations  which 
arose  as  soon  as  European  agriculture  began  to  yield  a  surplus. 
The  commodities  handled  were  altogether  luxuries  for  the  wealthy 
and  articles  for  the  embellishment  of  churches.  The  most  exten- 
sive trade  was  in  commodities  brought  from  the  East,  and  the 
manufactures  of  Venice,  while  adapted  to  the  demands  of  trade, 
were  ever  based  upon  eastern  or  old  Roman  models.  The  city 
itself  was  scarcely  a  part  of  Europe.  It  was  never  identified 
with  the  Germanic  empire,  and  while  religious  sympathy  may 
have  had  something  to  do  with  the  part  taken  in  the  Crusades, 
the  ideals  of  Christendom  had  little  to  do  with  the  control  of 

»  Hazlitt,  History  of  the  Venetian  Republic,  IV,  271-79,  344-49. 


244  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

Venetian  life.  Even  the  crusading  activity  was  chiefly  for  com- 
mercial gain,  and  frequently  more  sympathy  was  shown  for  the 
infidel  than  for  the  Christian.^ 

Because  Venice  acted  chiefly  as  a  channel  through  which  the 
products  of  the  older  civilization  were  carried  to  the  new  Europe, 
the  social  and  political  history  of  the  city  is  of  little  importance 
in  our  present  study.  Like  the  cities  of  the  later  Roman  Empire, 
the  government  was  republican.  The  assembly  of  the  people 
decided  upon  the  common  interests  and  sanctioned  the  local 
laws.  This  assembly  named  the  local  magistrates  who  performed 
judicial  functions.  Each  of  the  principal  islands  had  its  tribune 
chosen  by  its  own  inhabitants.  These  tribunes  sometimes  came 
together  to  consider  common  maritime  interests,  but  their  chief 
function  was  to  administer  justice  in  their  respective  islands. 
The  Venetians,  no  more  than  any  other  people  of  antiquity,  knew 
nothing  of  representative  government;  and  so,  after  many  inter- 
nal dissensions,  the  General  Assembly  in  697  agreed  to  select 
a  chief  with  the  title  of  "Doge"  to  direct  the  common  forces.  A 
balancing  of  powers  not  being  easily  accomplished,  the  Venetians 
kept  their  General  Assembly  in  order  to  be  free,  and  made  their 
chief  a  monarch  in  order  to  be  powerful."  Not  being  a  mediaeval 
community,  that  is,  having  none  of  the  economic  characteristics 
of  the  communities  we  have  been  considering,  feudal  institutions 
were  practically  unknown  in  Venice.  All  classes  were  engaged 
in  commerce  and  industry.  Therefore,  while  some  might  be 
held  in  higher  honor  than  others,  the  military-economic  organi- 
zation of  the  manor  could  not  exist.  The  artisans  held  social 
position  according  to  the  importance  of  their  crafts.  A  servile 
class  was  found  in  the  city,  but  it  was  never  employed  otherwise 
than  in  a  menial  capacity.^  The  laws  of  the  city  were  based 
directly  on  the  Roman  system,  or  rather,  were  simply  the  con- 
tinuation of  the  laws  in  force  at  the  time  the  city  was  founded. 

^  "The  maritime  republics  fought  for  their  purses,  not  for  their  creed.  Bald- 
win and  the  princes  of  Europe  fought  for  their  creed  without  regard  for  their  purses , 
and  such  enthusiasm  naturally  did  not  long  prevail. " — Bent,  Genoa,  32. 

a  Sismondi,  op.  cit.,  I,  224-29. 

3  Filiasi,  quoted  by  HazUtt,  op.  cit.,  IV,  329,  330. 


THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  COMMERCE  245 

The  Justinian  Code  was  not  rediscovered  at  Amalfi  until  1416, 
but  the  Venetian  code,  completed  in  1242,  was  full  of  Roman 
elements.  Everything  goes  to  show  that  the  city  belonged  to  the 
old  order,  simply  modified  to  meet  peculiar  commercial  and 
geographical  conditions.  And  yet  this  republic,  whose  beginnings 
antedated  the  fall  of  Rome,  survived  by  three  centuries  the  fall 
of  the  mediaeval  republic  of  Florence. 

Florence. — Unhke  the  two  cities  just  described,  Florence  was 
a  true  product  of  the  Middle  Ages.  The  fertile  fields  of  Tuscany 
soon  began  to  produce  in  abundance  the  food  supphes  which 
were  obtained  with  such  difficulty  in  the  North.  The  agricul- 
tural population  being  predominantly  Roman,  and  Roman 
methods  of  irrigation  and  cultivation  having  been  fairly  well  pre- 
served, the  results  throughout  northern  central  Italy  were  far 
more  satisfactory  than  they  were  in  the  other  countries  we  have 
considered.  Therefore,  there  earlier  arose  a  demand  for  such 
products  as  the  maritime  cities  could  supply  in  exchange  for  the 
agricultural  surplus.  For  the  same  reason  a  class  of  artisans 
could  sooner  be  detached  from  the  agricultural  workers.  These 
artisans  could  begin  their  crafts  under  more  favorable  circum- 
stances than  those  under  which  their  northern  brethren  labored, 
because  there  was  a  greater  opportunity  to  learn  the  traditions 
of  Roman  industry.  These  facts  can  account  for  the  artisan 
population  which  laid  the  foundations  of  Florentine  greatness. 

The  beginnings  of  these  settlements  of  artisans  and  small 
traders  are  unrecorded;  but  we  know  that  by  the  tenth  century 
well-defined  gilds  existed  side  by  side  with  associations  of  the 
lesser  nobihty  who  had  settled  in  the  same  region  and  had  built 
castles  for  mutual  protection.  Long  before  Florentine  commerce 
became  significant,  a  large  population  was  practically  self-gov- 
erning, being  divided  into  numerous  small  associations;  and 
when  the  communal  government  was  formed  to  co-ordinate  the 
existing  group  organizations,  it  was  constituted  on  the  basis  of 
the  gilds  of  arts  and  trades  and  the  "societies  of  the  towers." 
The  consuls  were  almost  invariably  chosen  from  the  latter,  but 
the  gilds  predominated  in  the  council,  and  the  whole  policy  of 


246  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

Florence  was  made  to  serve  the  trade  and  commerce  of  these  organ- 
izations.^ The  organization  of  the  city  was  perfected  during  the 
struggles  between  the  Countess  Matilda  and  the  Emperor  in 
the  latter  part  of  the  eleventh  century.  Until  the  latter  part  of 
the  thirteenth  century,  only  seven  gilds  had  arisen  to  any  great 
political  importance,  but  these  always  remained  the  "greater 
gilds,"  because  they  were  the  ones  whose  foreign  interests  dom- 
inated the  pohcy  of  the  city.  During  the  entire  period,  the  lesser 
nobiUty  and  the  tradesmen  lived  together  in  harmony.  Indeed, 
some  of  the  grandi  engaged  in  commerce  and  became  chiefs  of 
gilds.  But  the  greater  nobility  living  outside  the  city  were  not 
accorded  rights  of  citizenship.  With  these  the  commune  was 
constantly  at  war,  until  they  were  finally  overcome  and  compelled 
to  come  into  the  city  and  acknowledge  its  authority. 

The  scope  of  the  commerce  and  industry  of  Florence  is  indi- 
cated by  the  names  of  the  gilds  which  were  in  existence  at  the 
beginning  of  the  fourteenth  century.  These  were  the  following: 
Judges  and  Notaries — composed  of  the  professional  classes  which 
had  become  necessary  instruments  of  prosperity;  Calimala — 
dressers  of  cloth  procured  in  Flanders  and  neighboring  regions; 
Uina — a  religious  order  engaged  in  the  manufacture  of  wool 
brought  chiefly  from  England;  Silk  —  manufacturers  of  the  raw 
silk  imported  from  the  East;  Money- Changers  —  bankers  and 
brokers  both  at  home  and  abroad  and  usually  in  control  of  the 
revenues  of  the  Holy  See;  Doctors  and  Druggists — dealers  in  both 
drugs  and  spices  imported  from  the  East ;  Skinners  and  Furriers — 
dealers  in  pelts  of  rare  animals  brought  both  from  the  Orient 
and  from  the  Baltic  regions.  These  constituted  the  "Seven 
Greater  Gilds."  They  were  always  interested  in  maintaining 
the  foreign  commerce,  in  waging  wars  for  commercial  advantage, 
and  in  preventing  extravagance  in  the  city  itself.  The  other 
fourteen  gilds  were  known  as  the  "Lesser  Gilds."  These  were 
the  Linen-Makers  and  Mercers,  the  Shoemakers,  the  Smiths,  the 
Salters,  the  Butchers  and  Slaughterers,  the  Wine- Dealers,  the  Inn- 
keepers, the  Harness-Makers,  the  Leather- Dressers,  the  Armorers, 

«  Villari,  op.  cit.,  I,  127,  128. 


THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  COMMERCE  247 

the  Iron-Mongers,  the  Masons,  the  Carpenters,  and  the  Bakers 
The  number  of  lesser  gilds  varied  from  time  to  time.  These 
had  no  immediate  interest  in  the  foreign  policy  of  the  city,  but 
rather  desired  that  a  rich  and  idle  population  could  be  encouraged. 
Their  members  were  more  numerous  than  those  of  the  greater 
gilds  and  served  as  the  material  for  demagogues  to  work  on  when 
differences  arose.  The  greater  nobihty  of  the  Contado,  when 
forced  to  come  into  the  city,  naturally  sided  with  the  lesser  gilds; 
and  the  Medici,  while  not  belonging  to  nobiUty,  finally  gained 
control  of  the  government  by  appeahng  to  this  class.  In  addition 
to  the  industries  carried  on  by  the  gilds,  there  were  others  which 
reflected  great  honor  on  Florence,  But  the  famous  carvers  of 
wood  and  stone,  the  wax-molders,  etc.,  formed  no  associations, 
and  were  regarded  as  artists  rather  than  artisans.^ 

The  republic  was  thus  a  federation  of  gilds  and  associations 
of  petty  noblemen.  During  the  troublous  times  of  its  early  history 
this  characteristic  was  a  source  of  strength,  in  that  the  members 
of  the  various  groups  received  a  disciphne  in  co-operation  which 
the  State  could  not  give,  and  the  separate  groups  could  continue 
their  activities  with  comparatively  httle  interruption  even  when 
the  central  government  was  overthrown.  But  the  divergent  inter- 
ests of  the  two  classes  of  gilds  led  to  bitter  conflicts  within  the 
city;  and  when  commerce  began  to  decay,  the  masses  who  had 
been  held  down  by  the  powerful  merchant-burghers,  looked  to 
monarchical  rule  for  relief  and  put  the  power  in  the  hands  of 
Cosimo  de  Medici,  The  history  of  Florence  is  the  history  on  a 
somewhat  enlarged  scale  of  every  mediaeval  Italian  repubUc  except 
Venice  and  the  Greek  cities  of  the  far  south,  Genoa,  Milan, 
Rimini,  Lucca,  and  all  other  the  petty  states  were  the  product  of  the 
same  kind  of  commercial  activity;  and  all  of  those  which  did  not 
fall  in  the  commercial  wars  which  they  had  waged  with  one 
another  finally  passed  under  the  rule  of  princes  who  were  sup- 
ported by  the  rabble.     Their  great  prosperity  and  sudden  decay 

*  Villari,  op.  cit.,  I,  312-47;  Doren,  " Entwickelung  und  Organisation  der 
Florentiner  Ziinfte, "  in  Schmoller's  Staats  und  socicUvfissenschaftliche  For- 
schungen,  XV,  7  ff. 


248  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

were  alike  due  to  the  peculiar  nature  of  the  commerce  they  car- 
ried on.  When  they  fell  at  one  another's  hands,  their  destruction 
was  due  to  the  same  cause. 

The  decay  of  the  southern  cities. — This  commerce  was  essen- 
tially a  trade  in  luxuries  with  peoples  who  could  be  exploited  for 
a  time,  but  who,  in  time,  were  able  to  produce  for  themselves. 
No  better  illustration  of  the  character  of  this  trade  at  its  best  can 
be  found  than  in  the  case  of  the  two  great  gilds  of  wool  of  Flor- 
ence. The  wools  of  Italy  were  inferior  in  quahty  and  quantity 
to  those  of  northern  Europe.  In  Flanders,  Holland,  and  Brabant 
the  art  of  weaving  was  so  long  estabhshed  that  the  origin  of  the 
craft  was  lost  in  almost  prehistoric  times.  Carried  on  for  some 
time  as  a  manorial  industry,  opportunities  for  trade  early  led  to 
the  differentiation  of  a  distinct  artisan  class.  When  the  EngUsh 
wools  could  be  imported,  even  a  larger  number  could  give  up 
agriculture  for  spinning  and  weaving.  When  the  Italian  traders, 
Jews  and  "Lombards,"  visited  these  regions  with  their  little 
packs  of  spices,  jewels,  and  fine  garments,  they  naturally  became 
acquainted  with  the  value  of  the  woolen  cloths  and  tried  to  utiUze 
to  the  greatest  advantage  the  pieces  which  they  received  in  ex- 
change for  their  commodities.  The  Florentine  merchants  became 
the  most  extensive  dealers  in  these  products.  They  discovered  that 
these  cloths  were  made  of  yam  of  the  very  best  quahty,  but 
that  they  were  woven  in  a  coarse  manner  and  sent  to  market 
undressed  and  dyed  in  ugly  and  evanescent  colors.  Accordingly 
the  Florentine  merchants  imported  these  cloths  in  large  quantities 
in  order  to  dress  and  dye  them  in  their  own  workshops.  This 
became  the  work  of  the  Calimala  craft.  The  fine  cloths  thus 
produced  by  these  workmen  were  sold  extensively  in  the  East, 
and  finally  in  France,  England,  and  in  the  very  countries  from 
which  the  rough  cloth  had  come.  The  Arte  di  Lana,  or  Gild  of 
Wool,  which  manufactured  cloth  from  the  raw  materials,  had  a 
somewhat  different  origin,  but  hkewise  depended  upon  England 
and  the  Low  Countries  for  the  basis  of  its  industry.  This  great 
gild  was  controlled  by  a  monastic  order  known  as  the  Umiliata, 
which  was  formed  by  a  few  Lombard  exiles  who  had  been  ban- 


THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  COMMERCE  249 

ished  to  northern  Germany  by  Henry  I  in  1014.  The  exiles 
learned  the  art  of  weaving  practiced  there,  and  continued  to 
carry  on  the  business  after  they  had  returned  to  Italy  and  had 
formed  a  pious  association.  They  soon  ceased  to  labor  with  their 
own  hands,  but  continued  to  carry  on  and  improve  the  industry 
they  had  established.  In  the  thirteenth  century  they  accepted 
the  invitation  of  Florence  to  settle  in  that  city.  The  cloth  manu- 
factured by  this  gild  took  equal  rank  with  that  imported  and 
improved  by  the  Calimala.  This  trade  in  woolen  cloth  of 
fine  texture  became  the  most  important  carried  on  by  Florence, 
and  perhaps  surpassed  any  other  industry  on  the  Italian  penin- 
sula. In  1338  there  were  more  than  200  wool  factories  turning 
out  70,000  to  80,000  pieces  of  cloth  valued  at  1,200,000  florins; 
and  the  Calimala  had  twenty  warehouses  in  Florence  receiving 
more  than  10,000  pieces  of  cloth  valued  at  3,000,000  florins, 
besides  immense  stocks  handled  at  factories  which  it  had  estab- 
lished in  Northern  Europe.* 

These  two  gilds  were  always  in  a  difficult  position,  since  Italy  could  not 
supply  them  with  sufficient  raw  material,  nor  could  they  obtain  the  nimiber  of 

hands  required  to  carry  on  all  the  work  connected  with  their  business 

While  pursuing  the  system  of  keeping  the  finer  and  more  profitable  processes 
of  the  manufacture  in  their  own  hands,  the  Florentines  had  opened  factories 
for  the  first  and  coarser  stages  of  the  work  in  every  place  where  the  best  wool 
could  be  found;  that  is,  in  Holland,  Brabant,  England,  and  France.  And  even 
in  these  factories  they  took  care  that  the  more  difficult  and  profitable  share 

of  the  process  should  be  done  only  by  Florentine  hands But  this  state 

of  things  could  not  last  long Gradually  the  eyes  of  the  northerners 

were  opened,  and  the  Florentines  saw  new  factories  rising  abroad,  side  by 
side  with,  and  soon  rivaling,  their  own;  and  were  obliged  to  admit  that  to 
their  own  despite  they  had  taught  the  foreigners  the  very  trade  of  which  they 
had  meant  to  preserve  the  monopoly.  Nor  was  this  the  end  of  the  matter. 
Being  now  on  the  alert,  the  northerners  tried  to  check  the  exportation  of 
their  wools  and  of  their  uncut,  or  rather  undressed,  cloths;  and  from  the  end 
of  the  fifteenth  century  Henry  VII  of  England  began  to  take  measures  to  that 
effect.  Thenceforth  the  gilds  of  Wool  and  Calimala  were  doomed  to  decline 
in  Florence.' 

I  Villari,  op.  cit.,  I,  316  ff. 
»  Ibid.,  321,  322. 


250  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

The  effect  of  this  kind  of  trade  on  the  northern  peoples  would 
have  been  most  exhausting,  had  they  not  gradually  learned  to 
manufacture  for  themselves.  A  trade  in  luxuries  only  is  always 
exhausting  to  the  ruder  people  and  immensely  profitable  to  the 
merchant  class.  So,  the  Greeks  exploited  the  barbarian  races, 
the  eastern  merchants  exploited  the  Europeans  of  the  Carolingian 
period,  and  modem  civiUzed  nations  exploit  the  lower  races  with 
which  they  deal.  Had  this  trade  in  luxuries  remained  merely 
a  trade  in  luxuries,  it  would  have  resulted  in  the  economic  ruin 
of  the  northern  peoples.  Happily,  it  served  to  open  the  com- 
mercial routes,  to  stimulate  a  division  of  labor  which  helped  to 
break  up  the  manorial  system,  and  to  furnish  models  for  the 
northern  artisans  which  led  to  the  general  improvement  of  their 
products.  Further,  so  long  as  the  commerce  of  exploitation  was 
carried  on,  whatever  benefits  the  northerners  received  were  for 
the  upper  classes  only.  Nothing  brought  from  Italy  and  the 
Orient  could  possibly  pass  into  the  hands  of  the  common  people; 
and  the  common  people  could  receive  nothing  beyond  the  rough 
necessaries  of  hfe  so  long  as  they  were  merely  feeding  the  Itahan 
factories.  Of  course,  the  cloth-weavers  were  turning  out  com- 
modities which  would  clothe  them  more  comfortably  than  had 
been  possible  when  they  lived  on  the  baronial  estates;  but  neither 
these  nor  any  other  of  the  laboring  classes  could  advance  their 
standards  of  life  very  far  until  commerce  should  handle  many  other 
commodities  in  addition  to  the  luxuries  brought  from  the  South 
and  the  raw  materials  and  coarse  manufacturers  taken  away. 
Conditions  were  thus  somewhat  like  those  which  prevailed  in 
Athens  at  the  time  of  her  greatest  prosperity.  As  we  shall  see 
later,  the  peoples  of  northern  Europe  were  saved  from  a  permanent 
commerce  of  this  sort. 

The  Italians  made  known  to  the  peoples  of  the  North  the  prod- 
ucts of  the  East  and  South.  They  also  opened  the  routes  of 
commerce  and  stimulated  men  in  all  sections  to  engage  in  trade. 
They  cleared  the  seas  of  pirates  and  carried  the  crusaders  to  the 
Holy  Land  and  other  places  of  higher  civilization.  They  main- 
tained friendly  relations  with  the  Saracens  who  were  the  greatest 


THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  COMMERCE  251 

traders  and,  in  many  respects,  the  most  cultured  people  of  the 
Middle  Ages.  They  kept  in  touch  with  Byzantine  civilization. 
They  trained  artists  and  architects  who  became  the  teachers  of  the 
North,  when  the  latter  began  its  great  architectural  works.  They 
furnished  a  splendid  currency  in  their  ducats  and  florins  for  the 
use  of  the  commerce  of  the  whole  world,  and  thus  did  away  with 
the  necessity  of  barter  when  communities  were  struggling  to  enter 
into  relations  with  other  communities  far  distant  from  them.  They 
provided  a  credit  system  through  their  bankers  and  letters  of 
exchange  which  must  have  been  as  important  at  the  time  as  our 
credit  system  is  to  modem  commerce.  No  account  of  the  evolu- 
tion of  European  industries  would  be  complete  without  a  recog- 
nition of  the  part  played  by  the  commercial  cities  of  Italy  and 
southern  France  in  carrying  over  the  results  of  the  older  civiliza- 
tion and  starting  the  newer  society  on  its  commercial  career. 

Yet  the  effect  of  this  trade  on  the  Itahan  republics  themselves 
was  not  altogether  beneficial.  The  merchants  became  immensely 
wealthy.  The  ruder  peoples,  as  we  have  seen,  were  exploited. 
The  commerce  of  the  world  as  a  whole  was  very  meager,  but  its 
profits  fell  to  a  relatively  small  class.  The  merchants  of  the 
southern  cities,  so  long  as  they  were  few  in  number,  found  their 
profits  limited  only  by  their  ability  to  press  into  new  regions.  The 
commercial  republics  became  magnificent  and  powerful  because 
of  their  ample  resources.  This  wealth  coupled  with  the  technical 
skill  which  was  being  developed  made  possible  the  artistic  and 
architectural  works  which  followed  the  expansion  of  the  national 
spirit.  But  this  commerce  produced  an  aristocracy  of  great 
merchants.  While  the  smaller  artisans  shared  in  the  general 
prosperity,  their  condition  was  always  comparatively  mean.  The 
inability  of  the  masses  to  raise  their  standard  of  living  under  a 
trade  in  luxuries  has  already  been  explained;  but  even  the  mer- 
chants and  artisans  of  rather  high  grade  were  here  also  kept  in  a 
depressed  condition,  if  their  business  depended  solely  upon  local 
consumption.  The  wealthy  burghers  were  those  who  carried 
on  this  profitable  foreign  trade.  These  directed  the  policy  of  the 
State,  and  this  policy  always  aimed  at  the  promotion  of  the  com- 


252  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

merce  carried  on  by  the  great  merchants,  without  regard  for  the 
interests  of  the  other  classes  in  the  community.  Local  consump- 
tion was  actually  discouraged.  The  interests  of  the  two  classes 
of  business  were  by  no  means  identical ;  and  as  soon  as  the  foreign 
commerce  began  to  fall  off  and  the  general  prosperity  incident 
to  it  to  decline,  these  smaller  craftsmen  were  very  ready  for  revo- 
lution. But  during  the  continuance  of  the  extensive  foreign  oper- 
ations, the  political  power  was  made  to  serve  commerce,  and  the 
political  functions  were  exercised  by  the  commercial  aristocracy. 
In  the  most  prosperous  days  of  the  republic,  Florence  had  but 
three  thousand  citizens. 

In  addition  to  the  internal  dissensions,  the  peculiar  kind  of 
trade  carried  on  by  the  the  Italians  engendered  jealousies 
among  the  cities  themselves.  These  jealousies  of  cities  toward 
one  another  and  their  inability  to  form  leagues  have  been  attri- 
buted to  some  inherent  weakness  of  the  Italian  political  capacity. 
In  reality,  however,  the  political  strife  was  a  necessary  result  of 
the  kind  of  commercial  activity,  and  there  is  no  evidence  that 
an  Italian  Hanseatic  League  could  not  have  been  maintained 
had  the  economic  conditions  been  the  same  as  those  in  the  North. 
A  commerce  which  is  chiefly  an  exploitation  can  not  bear  com- 
petition. If  the  customers  are  to  be  drained  by  the  operations  of 
the  merchants,  there  is  just  so  much  to  be  secured,  and  competition 
would  mean  division;  whereas  if  the  trade  increases  the  produc- 
tive power  of  the  customers,  competition  causes  only  incidental 
friction.  The  commerce  carried  on  by  the  Italians  did  not  exhaust 
their  customers;  but  the  policy  of  the  former  was  to  drain  the 
latter  as  completely  as  possible.  Each  commercial  community 
found  profitable  fields  to  be  worked,  but  none  would  permit  another 
on  its  reservations.  Merchants  already  engaged  in  a  business 
would  not  permit  others  to  enter  their  associations;  and  if  mer- 
chants from  another  city  entered  an  established  market,  that  city 
immediately  became  a  rival  to  be  suppressed  by  war.  There 
was  no  division  of  labor  between  the  cities,  nor,  so  far  as  the 
advanced  processes  of  production  were  concerned,  between  the 
North  and  the  South.    The  people  of  the  North,  perceiving  the 


THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  COMMERCE  253 

enormous  profit  in  the  business  carried  on  by  Italains,  began  to 
produce  the  very  commodities  of  which  the  Italians  had  been 
monopohsts,  and  the  latter  were  driven  from  many  of  their  mar- 
kets. This  threw  the  Italians  back  once  more  to  a  commerce 
almost  exclusively  in  those  commodities  which  their  vessels 
brought  from  the  Orient.  The  restriction  of  the  markets  led  to 
fresh  rivahy  for  the  control  of  such  as  remained;  and  on  the 
decline  of  prosperity  a  people  is  always  most  intolerant  of  rivalry. 
After  a  fresh  readjustment  on  the  new  basis,  a  profitable  trade 
might  still  have  been  kept  up  by  many  of  the  sea-going  merchants ; 
but  this  was  prevented  from  reaching  its  fullest  proportions  by 
the  social  and  political  disturbances  which  the  loss  of  so  large 
a  share  of  the  market  caused  at  home;  and  before  the  genius  of 
the  people  could  reassert  itself,  the  conquests  by  the  Turks,  made 
possible  in  large  measure  by  the  ruinous  wars  between  Venice  and 
Genoa,  shut  off  communication  with  the  East  and  gave  a  stimulus 
to  discovery  which  led  to  the  rise  of  maritime  powers  on  the 
Atlantic.  But  before  this  final  decay  of  Italian  commerce  many 
of  the  cities  had  been  completely  ruined  by  these  rivalries  growing 
out  of  competition  in  the  diminishing  markets. 

A  still  further  cause  of  friction  was  the  competition  for  com- 
mercial privileges  in  the  East.  There  it  was  essential  to  secure 
monopoly  rights  in  order  to  keep  down  the  prices  of  commodities 
purchased;  whereas  in  the  North  it  was  important  to  prevent 
too  many  from  getting  into  a  limited  market,  which  being  exploited 
would  yield  its  whole  resources  to  a  few  as  readily  as  to  many. 
Thus,  in  both  East  and  North  the  nature  of  the  trade  carried 
on  rendered  the  Italians  intolerant  of  competition.  Therefore, 
Pisa  utterly  destroyed  Amalfi;  Florence  utterly  destroyed  Siena 
and  Pisa;  Genoa  attempted  to  destroy  Florence;  Venice  and 
Genoa  were  constantly  at  war  both  on  the  seas  and  in  the  eastern 
cities  where  both  held  concessions.  Moreover,  the  citizens  of  a 
conquered  commune  could  not  become  citizens  of  the  one  that 
conquered  them,  nor  hope  to  have  the  commerce  of  their  city 
preserved.  The  conquering  city  could  not  find  it  profitable  to  per- ' 
mit  the  subjugated  community  to  continue  to  compete  with  it,  any 


254  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

more  than  the  ruHng  burghers  could  permit  newcomers  to  enter 
their  gilds.  Throughout,  the  political  activity  was  directed  in  the 
interests  of  a  commerce  which  could  not  tolerate  competition. 
The  commune  was  managed  as  a  counting-house. 

The  character  of  Italian  commerce  thus  made  impossible  the 
unification  of  Italy,  or  even  the  formation  of  a  league  of  commercial 
cities.  It  also  rendered  the  general  population  of  a  given  city 
helpless  so  long  as  the  commercial  interests  could  be  kept  pre- 
dominant. "The  commune  seemed  increasingly  incapable  of 
giving  birth  to  the  modem  State."  Therefore,  when  commerce 
began  to  decay,  it  became  easy  for  demagogues  to  become  tyrants ; 
for  the  general  welfare  was  much  better  promoted  under  a  tyranny 
than  it  had  been  under  the  magnificent  but  selfish  merchant-aristoc- 
racy.   Thus  the  communes  of  Italy  were  reduced  to  principalities. 

This  transition  was  hastened  by  the  practice  of  employing 
bands  of  condottieri  as  temporary  standing  armies,  after  the 
introduction  of  heavy  cavalry  made  it  impossible  to  keep  an 
industrial  population  in  training  for  war.  Each  of  the  invasions 
of  northern  princes  who  hoped  to  establish  a  united  kingdom  of 
Italy  left  behind  many  adventurers  who  were  glad  to  become 
mercenaries.  In  time,  as  the  smaller  republics  were  overthrown 
by  the  larger,  their  more  energetic  citizens  formed  military  com- 
panies. Many  of  these  were  little  more  than  brigands,  and  few 
could  be  depended  upon  to  keep  their  contracts  when  employed 
by  the  cities.  The  captains  of  these  bands  frequently  became 
the  tyrants  of  the  cities  in  whose  interests  they  had  been  hired 
to  fight.  In  addition  to  their  employment  to  fight  the  wars  of 
the  communes,  the  captains  of  mercenaries  were  often  appointed 
podestas  to  keep  the  peace  between  the  various  factions  within 
the  cities.  Here  they  soon  became  too  strong  to  be  dislodged. 
Venice  never  introduced  the  mercenaries  within  the  city,  but, 
while  uniformly  employing  them  to  fight  the  land  battles  which 
were  necessary  to  hold  an  agricultural  region  and  the  passes 
through  the  Alps  by  way  of  Belluno,  she  always  manned  her  ships 
with  native  crews.  Venice  was  thus  saved  from  the  fate  which 
befell  all  other  Italian  republics.     In  some  cases  the  tyrannies 


THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  COMMERCE  255 

were  established  before  the  employment  of  mercenaries  began, 
either  because  the  dissensions  among  the  citizens  gave  some 
powerful  family  the  opportunity  to  obtain  control,  or  because  it 
seemed  necessary  to  have  a  single  strong  leader  in  a  critical  struggle 
with  neighbors.  Thus  Florence,  in  desperation  over  the  growing 
power  of  Pisa,  chose  Walter  de  Brienne  in  1343  to  act  as  dictator; 
but  in  this  case,  when  the  dictator  attempted  to  make  himself 
permanent  tyrant,  all  classes  united  to  drive  him  out;  and  the 
Florentine  republic  outlasted  all  the  rest,  and  finally  passed  under 
the  power  of  a  non-military  family.  However,  the  republics  were 
all  alike  doomed  to  fall  because  of  the  dissensions  between  the 
great  merchants  and  the  other  classes.  By  the  end  of  the  fifteenth 
century,  every  Italian  city  except  Venice  had  established  the 
signory.  The  Visconti  family  in  Milan,  the  della  Scala  in  Verona, 
the  Carrara  in  Padua,  the  Este  in  Ferrara,  the  Malatesta  in 
Rimini,  the  Bentivoglio  in  Bologna,  the  Gonzaga  in  Mantua, 
the  Medici  in  Florence — everywhere  princes  arose  to  displace 
the  older  form  of  government.  Even  the  Holy  See  became  a 
tyranny  which  promised  to  pass  permanently  into  the  family  of 
the  Borgia. 

But  however  violent  and  unconstitutional  the  origin  of  the 
signory,  however  ignoble  the  origin  of  the  tyrants,  the  form  of 
government  thus  established  was  the  best  possible  under  the 
circumstances.  The  welfare  of  all  classes  was  better  secured  than 
under  the  republic,  and  the  signor  ruled  as  an  organ  of  public 
opinion.  Civilization  was  not  arrested  or  turned  aside  even 
when  the  tyrant  was  a  rude  foreigner.  Indeed,  he  endeavored 
to  strengthen  his  position  by  becoming  the  patron  of  art  and  by 
making  the  results  of  the  highest  culture  available  for  the  public. 
The  splendor  of  the  court  was  made  to  take  the  place  of  ancient 
lineage.  Polenta  of  Ravenna  became  the  patron  of  the  pro- 
scribed Dante,  and  Caesar  Borgia  made  possible  the  best  works 
of  Leonardo  da  Vinci;  the  signor  of  Pesaro  was  the  friend  of 
Petrarch,  and  the  signor  of  Rimini  employed  Giotto  to  paint 
frescoes  on  the  walls  of  St.  Francis.  The  philosophers  and  poets 
of  the  Renaissance  could  free  the  minds  of  men  alike  from  imperial 


256  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

authority  and  ecclesiastical  terrors,  even  while  their  patrons  gave 
nominal  allegiance  to  one  or  the  other  of  those  declining  powers. 
The  control  of  military  resources  by  the  signor  assured  the 
autonomy  of  the  State,  while  the  decay  of  the  commerce  of  exploit- 
tation  saved  neighboring  cities  from  the  wars  which  had  been 
so  constant  under  the  preceding  regime.  The  vigorous  podestas 
who  had  first  been  called  in  to  quell  the  disturbances  caused  by 
the  quarrels  of  merchants  and  populace,  of  Guelfs  and  Ghibel- 
lines,  rescued  their  principalities  from  the  heavy  burdens  of  both 
the  Empire  and  the  Holy  See.  While,  therefore,  a  sentimental 
interest  may  lead  us  to  regret  the  fall  of  the  vigorous  merchant 
burghers  and  the  failure  of  such  monkish  reforms  as  those  insti- 
tuted by  Savonarola,  a  consideration  of  the  social  conditions  of 
Italy  must  convince  us  that  the  signory  was  the  natural  political 
organization  for  the  time.^ 

The  economic  conditions  in  Italy  had  rendered  impossible  any 
such  co-operative  league  as  was  formed  in  the  North.  The 
reason  for  this  has  already  been  stated.  But  the  early  develop- 
ment of  commerce  and  the  struggles  between  Guelfs  and  Ghibel- 
lines  had  resulted  in  such  an  undermining  of  feudalism  as  left 
no  noble  strong  enough  to  consolidate  a  National  State,  as  Philip 
Augustus  and  his  successors  did  in  France  and  the  Hohenzol- 
lem  did  in  Prussia.  As  the  economic  competition  had  made 
the  commercial  league  impossible,  so  the  destruction  of  feudalism 
made  the  National  State  impossible.  The  emperor  had  sup- 
ported the  feudal  nobihty;  the  pope  had  protected  the  burghers 
and  the  urban  nobility.  The  constant  dissensions,  of  which  the 
most  acute  was  that  between  Gregory  VII  and  Hepiry  IV,  ruined 
feudaUsm,  and  enabled  the  urban  population  to  establish  the 
republics.  By  the  year  1200  there  was  no  longer  a  single  inde- 
pendent noble  in  all  Lombardy;  in  1209  the  last  of  the  Tuscan 
seigneurs  were  obliged  to  move  into  Florence.     By  the  middle  of 

^Cf.  ViUaii,  op.  cit.,  I,  346-59;  Gebhart,  Les  origines  de  la  renaissance  en 
Italic,  84-86,  103-17;  Yriarte,  Rimini:  Studes  sur  les  lettres  ei  les  arts  it  la  cour 
des  MakUesta,  1-3,  7-10;  Symonds,  The  Renaissance  in  Italy:  The  Revival  of 
Learning,  chap.  iz. 


THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  COMMERCE  257 

the  thirteenth  century,  the  house  of  Hohenstaufen  had  been 
crushed;  and  within  fifty  years  of  that  time,  the  papacy  had 
received  the  reverse  at  Anagni  which  forced  it  into  exile.  ^  Thus, 
Italy  was  left  free  to  work  out  its  own  poHtical  structure,  and 
succeeded  admirably  in  doing  so  under  both  repubHcs  and  signo- 
ries;  but  it  was  impossible  to  effect  a  larger  integration  both  on 
account  of  the  lack  of  a  natural  economic  basis  and  because  of 
the  inabiUty  of  the  pohtical  powers  to  shape  the  economic  devel- 
opment with  reference  to  the  development  of  a  national  Ufe. 
Milan  under  the  Visconti  family  gave  greatest  promise  of  growth 
into  a  large  national  state,  but  rival  principaUties  proved  too 
strong  to  permit  either  the  territorial  expansion  or  the  internal 
development  of  the  duchy.  The  freedom  and  cosmopolitanism 
of  the  Renaissance  in  Italy  tended  to  render  men  indifferent  to 
national  unification;  just  as  many  of  the  most  enlightened  men 
of  Germany  were  indifferent  or  hostile  to  the  formation  of  the 
present  empire.  Thus,  Italy  remained  cut  up  into  a  number  of 
small  signories,  until  the  whole  peninsula  fell  into  the  chaos  which 
continued  up  to  the  middle  of  the  nineteenth  century.  After  the 
fall  of  the  commercial  repubhcs  which  had  set  the  pace  for  Euro- 
pean industry  and  the  passing  of  the  men  of  the  Renaissance — 
the  product  of  the  commercial  development  and  the  pride  of  the 
earlier  signors — who  gave  the  first  stimulus  to  European  thought, 
Italy  ceased  to  have  any  essential  part  in  the  development  we  are 
tracing. 

THE  COMMERCIAL  LEAGUES 

Turning  once  more  to  the  main  current  of  European  life,  we 
find  a  larger  social  integration  growing  out  of  the  economic  devel- 
opment we  have  traced.  Attention  has  already  been  directed"  to 
some  of  the  political  movements  which  aided  in  the  development 
of  the  towns.  It  was  shown  that  some  of  the  great  feudal  lords, 
as  the  kings  of  France  and  the  lords  of  the  northern  counties, 
came  to  the  assistance  of  the  communes,  in  order  to  undermine 
their  vassals  who  were  the  seigneurs  of  the  towns ;  that  the  absence 

I  Gebhart,  op.  cit.,  92-96;  Yriarte,  op.  cit.,  6,  7. 
'  Supra,  210-13. 


258  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

of  a  great  feudal  power  in  Germany  made  it  necessary  for  the 
towns  to  form  leagues,  both  to  exact  terms  from  their  immediate 
seigneurs  and  to  contend  with  the  imperial  power;  that  in  Eng- 
land the  strong  royal  power  took  a  paternal  interest  in  the  com- 
mercial towns  whether  located  on  the  royal  domain  or  on  the 
domains  of  the  nobility.  Now  it  is  desirable  to  notice  the  com- 
mercial interrelations  of  the  northern  towns,  and  to  observe  how 
the  character  of  the  trade  carried  on  between  them  furthered  a 
genuine  division  of  labor  and,  therefore,  tended  to  constitute  the 
whole  of  northwestern  Europe  a  single  community. 

This  trade  was  not,  like  that  carried  on  by  the  Italians,  a  trade 
primarily  in  luxuries,  though  such  a  trade  undoubtedly  played  a 
most  important  part  in  the  first  stages  of  every  new  commercial 
movement.  Every  new  article  of  commerce  was  likely  to  be  a 
luxury;  but  luxuries  gradually  became  necessaries,  and  the  com- 
modities of  commerce  became  so  various  that  a  genuine  division 
of  labor  could  be  made.  The  products  of  each  considerable 
section  were  wanted  by  every  other  section,  and  it  was  to  the 
interest  of  all  that  the  productivity  of  each  should  be  as  great 
as  possible.  This  interest  was  not  always  consciously  recognized, 
but  it  was  real  enough  to  bring  about  important  co-operative 
systems.  Within  small  areas  there  might  be  very  bitter  rivalry 
between  towns  which  produced  the  same  commodity,  and  all 
towns  pursued  a  very  narrow  policy,  when  it  came  to  trading 
within  their  respective  retail  markets;  but,  on  the  whole,  the 
competition  was  incidental  rather  than  radical.  It  was  to  the 
recognized  advantage  of  the  entire  Low  Countries  that  the  Eng- 
lish wool  product  should  be  as  great  as  possible.  It  might  be 
profitable  for  the  individual  merchants  to  make  exhorbitant 
profits  in  buying  wool,  but  it  was  the  general  policy  of  the  cloth- 
producing  cities  to  carry  on  a  fair  trade  that  would  stimulate  the 
continuous  production  of  wool.  No  single  city  ever  having  monop- 
olized the  market,  the  competition  of  the  groups  of  merchants 
from  various  places  served  to  keep  up  the  prices;  but  this  com- 
petition was  taken  as  a  matter  of  course,  and  never  led  to  such 
struggles  as  took  place  when  one  Italian  city  entered  a  field  which 


THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  COMMERCE  259 

another  had  come  to  regard  as  its  own.  So,  the  commercial 
world  at  large  desired  a  large  product  from  the  cloth- producing 
communities.  Within  the  cloth- producing  area  there  might  be 
a  bitter  rivalry,  as  between  Arras  and  Bruges,  for  the  control  of 
a  certain  product,  yet  the  rivals  could  co-operate  harmoniously 
when  they  came  together  in  foreign  operations.  Within  a  given 
city  not  even  the  merchants  of  the  most  favored  neighbor  could 
trade  on  equal  terms  with  the  home  merchants,  and  goods  passing 
through  the  city  had  to  be  opened  and  exposed  for  sale.*  But 
these  internal  restrictions  were  taken  as  in  keeping  with  the 
universal  pohcy  of  the  times. 

The  most  important  center  of  commercial  activity  was  Eng- 
land, the  country  which  was  least  advanced  in  manufactures; 
and  the  commercial  leagues  find  their  chief  explanation  in  the 
relations  of  their  members  in  that  country.  This  important  trade 
was  not  in  the  hands  of  EngHsh  merchants.  The  latter  had  to  do 
only  with  the  internal  trade.  The  raw  materials  produced  by 
England,  of  which  wool  was  the  most  important — though  tin, 
lead,  fish,  fat  cattle,  meat,  and  grain  were  exported  in  large  quanti- 
ties by  the  twelfth  century* — were  needed  by  all  of  the  industrial 
communities  of  northern  Europe;  and  it  was  natural  that  the 
merchants  should  come  from  the  communities  which  produced 
the  finished  products,  rather  than  from  the  more  backward 
country.  EngHsh  poUcy  protected  these  foreign  merchants  until 
efforts  were  begun  to  build  up  home  industries.  As  early  as  121 5 
their  freedom  was  guaranteed  by  the  fundamental  law  of  the 
kingdom.3  Until  the  time  of  the  Tudors,  the  general  policy  of 
the  monarchs  was  to  favor  foreign  merchants  who  traded  in  Eng- 
land.    The  reasons  for  this  will  appear  later. 

Here,  as  elsewhere,  the  Italians  were  the  pioneers.  They  first 
entered  England,  not  as  traders,  but  as  the  fiscal  agents  of  the 

I  On  the  internal  policy  of  the  towns,  vide  SchmoUer,  The  Mercantile  System 
(translated  by  Ashley  from  Studien  iiber  die  wirtschaftliche  Politik  Friedrichs  des 
Grossen),  7-13. 

'  Craik,  History  of  British  Commerce,  I,  105.  The  chief  authority  here  is 
Henry  of  Huntingdon  (ca.  1155). 

3  Magna  Carta,  §  41. 


26o  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

Holy  See  which  availed  itself  of  the  sound  money  systems  and 
skilful  bankers  of  Siena,  Lucca,  and  Florence,  These  Italians 
soon  took  advantage  of  their  opportunity  to  bring  in  those  wares 
which  had  formerly  been  brought  in  in  very  small  quantities  by 
wandering  traders.  Their  position  was  strengthened  by  their 
diplomatic  abihty  and  by  loans  to  the  crown.  By  the  middle  of 
the  thirteenth  century,  England  swarmed  with  Italian  merchants, 
chief  of  whom  were  the  Florentines,  exchanging  their  wares  for 
EngUsh  wool.  Their  position  was  weakened  in  the  time  of  Edward 
III ;  for  they  had  loaned  too  heavily  to  that  monarch,  and  lost  his 
favor  when  he  saw  that  he  had  exhausted  their  resources.  Later, 
Genoa  was  greatly  favored  on  account  of  her  sea-power  and  her 
proximity  to  France.  Henry  V  gave  the  Genoese  advantages  over 
all  others  in  order  to  keep  them  at  least  neutral  in  the  struggle 
between  England  and  France.  On  the  accession  of  the  York 
kings,  however,  Venice  was  enabled  to  take  the  place  of  Genoa; 
but  before  this  time  relations  with  Flanders  and  the  Hansa  had 
become  more  important,  and  the  kings  no  longer  granted  the 
Italians  special  favors.  The  last  time  the  Venetian  fleet  visited 
England  was  in  1587.^ 

We  have  already  noticed  the  early  rise  of  the  cloth  industry 
in  Flanders.  By  the  time  this  had  become  of  more  than  local 
importance,  the  weavers  were  depending  largely  upon  England 
for  their  wool.  From  the  beginning  of  the  eleventh  century  the 
intercourse  between  the  two  regions,  which  had  never  been  entirely 
broken  off,  came  to  have  a  profound  economic  importance  and 
frequently  had  a  controlling  influence  in  high  poHtics.  The  favor- 
able cUmate  and  soil  of  England  and  the  relatively  permanent 
peace,  at  a  time  when  continental  flocks  were  being  destroyed  by 
constant  wars,  enabled  the  English  to  enjoy  a  virtual  monopoly  of 
wool.  As  in  all  other  industries,  the  monasteries  led  in  wool- 
growing,  the  Cistercians  maintaining  the  largest  sheep-ranges; 
but  from  the  twelfth  century  nearly  everybody  in  the  realm,  from 
king  to  villein,  was  interested  in  the  industry.*     Much    of  this 

'  Cf.  Schanz,  Englische  HandelspoHtik  gegen  Ende  des  Mittelatlers,  I,  116- 
26;   Gibbins,  Industry  in  England,  225,  226. 
^Gibbins,  op.  cit.,  120,  121. 


THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  COMMERCE  261 

large  clip  was  worked  up  on  the  manors  for  home  consumption. 
This  cloth  was  produced  by  men  who  gave  but  a  small  portion 
of  their  time  to  weaving,  and  was  too  coarse  for  exp)ort.  Not 
until  the  reign  of  Edward  III  was  any  serious  attempt  made  to 
manufacture  better  grades  of  cloth  at  home,  and  not  until  the 
Tudor  period  did  the  English  industry  begin  to  surpass  the  Flemish, 
There  are  several  reasons  for  this  long- continued  export  of  the 
raw  material  and  import  of  manufactured  products.  Chief  of 
these,  of  course,  was  the  economic  advantage  of  this  kind  of  trade. 
England  could  produce  a  commodity  which  Europe  needed  and 
which  few  other  sections  could  produce.  On  the  other  hand, 
Normandy  and  the  Low  Countries  could  manufacture  cloth  which 
no  Enghsh  workmen  could  produce.  The  processes  which  had 
been  handed  down  by  tradition  were  in  every  sense  a  "mystery," 
and  when  the  skilled  artisans  learned  still  better  methods  from 
the  ItaHanSj  their  craft  was  ever  further  beyond  the  Enghsh 
workmen  of  the  time.  It  was  therefore  unprofitable  to  attempt 
to  manufacture  cloth  of  the  better  grades  at  home.  When,  finally, 
the  industry  was  built  up  in  England,  it  was  by  importing  Flemish 
workmen.  Under  these  circumstances,  the  way  of  economic 
advantage  lay  in  a  complete  division  of  labor  between  the  two 
regions.  "^  On  the  pohtical  side,  the  tendency  to  maintain  a 
complete  division  of  labor  was  strengthened.  In  the  first  place, 
taking  advantage  of  the  economic  law  whereby  the  burden  of  a 
tax  on  a  monopoly  export  may  be  thrown  on  the  foreign  consumer, 
the  Enghsh  kings  were  able  to  secure  large  revenues  by  laying  an 
export  duty  on  wool — greater  by  far  than  they  could  have  secured 
from  an  import  duty  on  cloth.  Self-interest,  therefore,  led  them 
to  further,  rather  than  interrupt,  the  natural  economic  movement. 
Of  equal  importance  was  the  pohtical  interest  of  the  Enghsh 
kings  in  ahenating  the  Flemings  from  their  feudal  and  natural 
compatriots,  the  French.  In  all  of  their  operations  against 
France  they  sought  to  strengthen  the  bonds  which  united  Flanders 
to  England,  in  order  to  secure  a  base  from  which  to  enter  France 

I  SchmoUer,  Strassburger  Tucker-  und  Weberzunft,  365-67;  Ashley,  History  of 
the  English  Woollen  Industry,  333-35;  Schanz,  op.  cit.,  I,  chap.  i. 


262  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

and  the  assistance,  or  at  least  the  neutraUty,  of  the  Flemings. 
The  two  countries  which  formed  one  economic  community 
promised  to  become  one  in  political  organization.  In  every  case 
the  economic  interests  of  the  industrial  communities  determined 
their  political  action;  for  though  the  Enghsh  would  suJBfer  great 
inconvenience  from  the  breaking-off  of  commercial  relations  with 
the  Flemish,  they  could  still  feed  and  clothe  themselves;  while 
the  Flemings  would  be  reduced  to  starvation  by  the  cutting-ofif 
of  the  supply  of  English  wool.* 

Thus  we  find  every  reason  for  the  protection  and  favor  given 
to  the  foreign  merchants  by  the  English  government.  On  the 
Continent,  until  the  rise  of  the  French  nation,  there  was  no  political 
power  which  could  exert  as  great  an  influence  over  commercial 
intercourse  as  the  English  kings  did  in  compelling  the  merchant 
communities  to  serve  their  political  ends.  And  so  it  came  to 
pass  that  an  economic  community  was  formed  which  went  beyond 
any  political  community,  and  which,  before  the  rise  of  the  national 
states  and  the  development  of  international  law,  gave  fair  promise 
of  forming  a  political  structure  of  its  own.  The  English  merchant 
communities  were  too  passive  and  the  crown  too  strong  for  a  devel- 
opment in  this  direction  in  England ;  but  in  Flanders  and  northern 
France,  before  the  French  monarchy  was  well  established,  the 
commercial  league  became  very  strong,  and  in  Germany  it  re- 
mained a  real  political  power  for  a  long  period;  while  Flanders 
and  England  tended  toward  a  political  amalgamation  correspond- 
ing to  the  community  of  economic  interests.  The  commercial 
leagues  never  quite  reached  a  true  political  organization;  but 
they  had  a  marked  influence  over  the  later  political  development, 
both  in  establishing  certain  habits  of  commercial  intercourse, 
which  made  it  forever  impossible  to  go  back  to  the  old  practices 
of  piracy  and  reprisal,  and  in  setting  an  ideal  of  industrial  activity, 
which  was  afterward  the  standard  for  the  great  politicians  who 
laid  the  foundations  of  the  modern  states  of  the  North. 

The  earlier  league — at  least  as  an  important  factor — known  as 

I  Schanz,  op.  cit.,  I,  11-19;  Gibbins,  op.  cit.,  121-24;  Lodge,  The  Close 
of  the  Middle  Ages,  70-72. 


THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  COMMERCE  263 

the  Hanse  of  London,  was  formed  primarily,  as  its  name  implies, 
for  the  control  of  the  English  trade.  This  was  formed  prior  to 
the  year  1204^  and  lasted  into  the  fifteenth  century.  This  league 
included  some  seventeen  important  towns,  among  them  the  chief 
commercial  centers  in  Flanders,  and,  for  a  time,  Chalons,  Rheims, 
St.  Quentin,  Cambray,  Amiens,  Beauvais,  and  possibly  Paris. 
It  was  maintained  strictly  in  the  interest  of  the  merchant  bodies 
which  controlled  the  affairs  of  their  respective  cities.  Their 
interests  being  predominantly  economic,  and  the  need  of  political 
action  not  being  very  pressing,  these  cities  never  made  a  very 
close  approach  to  a  political  organization.  Still  the  league  secured 
protection  for  its  members  and  stood  as  a  political  whole  over 
against  England.' 

The  Teutonic  Hansa,  on  the  other  hand,  while  springing  up 
because  of  conditions  similar  to  those  which  produced  the  Hanse 
of  London,  was  forced  by  circumstances  to  perform  political 
functions  scarcely  less  important  than  those  of  great  states.  This 
great  league  was  the  outgrowth  of  several  smaller  leagues  which 
had  sprung  up  spontaneously  in  various  parts  of  the  Empire.  In 
southern  Germany  the  towns  frequently  formed  alliances  to  resist 
the  territorial  princes  and  to  obtain  security  for  traveling  mer- 
chants and  immunity  from  excessive  tolls;  but  the  southern  cities 
were  situated  in  a  region  which  had  become  tolerably  advanced 
in  cix-ilization,  and  they  could  afford  to  maintain  independence 
and  isolation.  The  northern  cities,  on  the  other  hand,  had  impor- 
tant relations  with  neighboring  states  which  were  much  below 
themselves  in  civilization,  and  were  obliged  to  form  alliances  of 
a  relatively  permanent  character,  both  for  collective  bargaining 
and  for  genuine  political  action.  ^ 

The  important  trade  of  the  Baltic  and  the  North  Sea  and  the 
fisheries  of  those  waters  were  the  basis  of  the  prosperity  of  many 
towns  from  the  Weser  to  the  Niemen;     while  the  trade  which 

'  First  mentioned  at  this  date  in  a  charter  of  Bruges,  Wamkoenig,  Histoire 
de  Flandre,  II,  207. 

»  Ashley,  History  of  the  English  Woollen  Industry,  331,  332. 
3  Lodge,  The  Close  of  the  Middle  Ages,  422,  423. 


264  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

passed  down  the  Rhine  valley  caused  the  rise  of  a  chain  of  towns 
along  that  river,  interested  alike  in  the  southern  trade  and  in 
the  commerce  of  the  North  Sea.  Tributary  to  these  two  groups 
of  cities  were  many  inland  towns  of  less  importance.  For  a  time 
there  was  no  very  close  relation  between  the  towns  of  the  North 
Sea  and  those  of  the  Baltic.  At  the  head  of  the  former  group 
stood  Cologne,  though  Hamburg  and  Bremen  became  important 
rivals  of  the  capital  of  the  Rhine.  The  center  of  the  Baltic  trade 
was  Wisby,  a  German  city  on  the  island  of  Gothland  in  the 
kingdom  of  Sweden;  but  by  the  thirteenth  century  Liibeck  began 
to  rise  in  importance,  and  finally  became  the  leader  of  the 
Baltic  cities. 

The  center  of  the  operations  of  the  Rhenish  cities  came  to  be 
London,  where  Cologne — the  first  of  the  German  cities  to  attain 
to  commercial  importance* — obtained  important  concessions 
and  had  established  the  "Steelyard"  by  11 57.*  This  famous 
merchant  settlement  found  its  counterpart  in  all  commercial 
centers  where  foreign  merchants  congregated.  Some  time  was 
always  required  to  dispose  of  a  cargo;  if  bad  weather  set  in 
before  his  business  was  transacted,  the  merchant  frequently 
found  it  necessary  to  spend  several  months  in  the  foreign  port. 
Suitable  inns,  warehouses,  and  harbors  had  to  be  provided  by 
the  merchants  who  used  them.  Finally,  since  law  was  personal, 
rather  than  territorial,  provision  had  to  be  made  for  the  settle- 
ment of  disputes  among  the  foreigners  who  were  sojourning 
together;  and  some  support,  more  powerful  than  individual  influ- 
ence had  to  be  given  to  the  foreigner  who  had  a  difference  with  a 
native.  For  these  reasons,  privileges  and  concessions  were  neces- 
sary, if  trade  was  to  be  carried  on  at  all;  and  what  the  individual 
trader  could  not  secure  was  frequently  granted  to  the  whole  body 
of  merchants  who  came  from  the  same  town  or  were  engaged  in 
the  same  trade. ^  So  the  men  of  Cologne  were  given  permission 
to  form  the  first  German  hanse  in  London.     A  wealthy  and 

I  SchmoUer,  Strassburger  T.  und  W.,  366. 

»  Lappenberg,  Urkundliche  Geschichte  des  hansischen  Stahlhojes  zu  London,  2. 

3  Lodge,  op.  cit.,  424,  425. 


THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  COMMERCE  265 

influential  hanse  once  established  was  able  to  prevent  other  groups 
of  merchants  from  securing  similar  concessions;  and  the  English 
kings  were  much  more  wilhng  to  extend  the  scope  of  the  grant 
to  Cologne  than  to  cause  still  more  dissatisfaction  among  their 
own  subjects  by  granting  separate  hanses  to  the  many  German 
cities  which  had  commercial  relations  with  England,*  Other 
merchants  who  desired  to  trade  in  London  could  obtain  admis- 
sion to  the  Hansa  of  Cologne  on  terms  named  by  that  corporation ; 
and  in  the  course  of  time  the  traders  from  all  the  Rhenish  and 
Westphalian  cities  were  admitted  to  its  privileges.  But  when 
the  trade  of  Hamburg  with  London  became  important,  the  mer- 
chants of  that  city  could  not  obtain  admission  to  the  privileges 
of  the  hanse ;  nor  could  the  Baltic  cities,  headed  by  Liibeck,  when 
they  began  to  trade  with  England.  In  1266  and  1267  the  English 
king  granted  Hamburg  and  Liibeck  hanse  pri\dleges  at  Lj^nn  on 
the  east  coast,  and  all  other  German  cities  which  could  not  gain 
admittance  to  the  "Steelyard"  associated  with  Liibeck.  The 
strength  of  this  rival  association  was  due  to  the  alliance  between 
Hamburg,  the  rival  of  Cologne  on  the  North  Sea,  and  Liibeck, 
the  leader  of  the  Baltic  towns,  to  oppose  the  exactions  of  Den- 
mark on  the  vessels  passing  through  the  Sound  and  frequenting 
the  fishing-grounds  off  the  coast  of  Skaania.  Their  common 
action  marks  the  growth  of  common  interests:  the  North  Sea 
trade  was  reaching  out  to  the  Baltic  regions,  and  the  Baltic  trade 
was  expanding  toward  the  West.  Other  towns  interested  in  the 
passage  of  the  Sound  naturally  allied  themselves  with  these  two 
cities;  and  Liibeck,  having  already  come  to  be  the  recognized 
head  of  a  large  number  of  towns,  was  regarded  as  the  leader  of 
these  allies.  This  alliance  between  Hamburg  and  Liibeck  was 
the  real  beginning  of  the  Hanseatic  League;  but  the  consolidation 
of  the  Hansa  took  place  in  England,  where  the  hanses  of  Ham- 
burg, Liibeck,  and  Cologne  were  merged  by  the  year   1282.' 

^  Schanz,  op.  cit.,  I,   173. 

'  "  Out  of  this  gild  of  merchants  of  Cologne  arose  the  great  Teutonic  Hanse  : 
first  by  the  inclusion  in  the  gild  of  all  other  German  merchants  who  wished  to 
trade  in  England,  and  afterward  by  the  rise  of  Liibeck.     For  Lubeck,  after  vainly 


266  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

With  varying  fortunes  the  League  continued  to  enjoy  extraordinary 
privileges  in  England  until  its  charter  was  finally  rescinded  by 
Elizabeth  in  1597.  But  by  that  time  its  commercial  power  had 
waned  and  many  of  its  constituent  cities  had  been  detached. 

As  London  was  the  chief  center  of  trade  for  the  League  in  the 
West,  so  Novgorod  was  the  most  important  center  in  the  East. 
Novgorod  was  the  most  important  of  the  many  "factories" 
established  by  Wisby.  As  in  civilized  communities  the  merchants 
formed  hanses  for  the  protection  of  their  interests,  so  in  the 
uncivilized  regions  with  which  they  traded  they  founded  trading- 
colonies  which  frequently  grew  into  towns.  These  commercial 
stations  played  a  most  important  part  in  extending  Christianity 
and  civilization  into  East  Prussia,  Lithuania,  and  Livonia.  Nov- 
gorod was  founded  as  early  as  the  beginning  of  the  thirteenth 
century,  and  early  became  the  center  of  an  enormous  trade  with 
the  whole  northeastern  section  of  Europe.  To  facilitate  the 
interior  commerce,  there  were  established  secondary  "factories," 
as  Ladoga,  Pleskow,  and  probably  Smolensk.  The  chief  articles 
of  this  commerce  were  furs,  leather,  wax,  tallow,  gold,  and  silver, 
among  the  exports;  and  clothing,  flour,  herring,  Dutch  and  Eng- 
lish cloth,  copper,  zinc,  lead,  wine,  and  smoked  meat  were  imported 
for  distribution  in  that  region.^  Whether  a  route  to  the  Orient 
was  opened  through  Novgorod,  as  some  writers  have  thought, 
may  well  be  questioned;'  for  the  difficulties  of  travel  through 
the  intervening  barbarous  countries  were  so  great  that  commerce 
would  scarcely  leave  the  Mediterranean  route  for  this  one.  Nor 
have  we  any  records  of  oriental  trade  passing  through  Novgorod. 

London  and  Novgorod  were  respectively  the  western  and  east- 
em  limits  of  the  activity  of  the  League.  To  the  North  a  trade 
was  carried  on  with  the  upper  parts  of  Sweden  and  Norway 
and  even  with  Iceland.  This,  of  course,  was  much  less  important 
than  that  in  the  other  directions.     The  most  southerly  Hanse 

trying  to  enter  the  Cologne  confederation,  founded  a  hanse  of  its  own,  to  which 
that  of  Cologne  soon  became  subordinate." — Ashley,  History  0}  the  Woollen 
Industry,  333. 

I  Worms,  Histoire  de  la  Ligue  Hanseatique,  81-84. 

a  Ihid.,  84-86. 


THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  COMMERCE  267 

cities  were  Dinant  on  the  Meuse,  Andemach  on  the  Rhine,  Breslau 
on  the  Oder,  and  Cracow  on  the  Vistula ;  but  the  Hanseatic  com- 
merce was  not  restricted  to  the  direct  activity  of  members  of  the 
League,  and  some  of  the  most  important  trade  relations  were  with 
Venice  through  the  passes  of  the  Tirol  and  the  German  cities  of 
Regensburg,  Augsburg,  and  Nuremberg. 

Going  back  to  the  Liibeck-Hamburg  aUiance  of  1241  which 
proved  to  be  the  nucleus  of  the  Hanseatic  League,  we  find  the 
reason  for  the  poHtical  activity  of  the  League  which  so  nearly 
led  to  the  formation  of  a  political  structure.  The  union  was 
formed  purely  in  the  interest  of  commerce,  but  in  protecting  com- 
merce it  was  found  necessary  to  assume  pohtical  functions.  That 
first  union  was  formed  for  the  purpose  of  deahng  with  Denmark. 
Some  forty  years  later,  an  assembly  was  held  at  Rostock  for  the 
purpose  of  adopting  measures  to  prevent  Norway  from  continuing 
injuries  which  were  being  inflicted  upon  commerce  by  that  power. 
All  trade  with  Norway  was  cut  off  until  redress  should  be  obtained 
and  it  was  further  resolved  that  commercial  relations  with  Bremen 
should  be  discontinued  unless  that  city  would  co-operate  with 
the  others.  For  about  a  hundred  years  after  the  Lubeck-Ham- 
burg  alliance,  similar  unions  of  the  cities  of  northern  Germany 
took  place.  Different  towns  would  unite  at  different  times;  and 
sometimes  the  League  seemed  to  be  on  the  point  of  dissolution. 
The  joint  action  of  the  cities,  while  frequently  directed  against 
a  nation,  was  usually  of  a  purely  commercial  character,  as  the 
resort  to  trade  reprisals,  the  adoption  of  commercial  rules,  or  the 
regulation  of  the  affairs  of  Novgorod.  In  the  next  period  the 
distinctively  poHtical  character  of  the  League  became  more 
prominent. 

After  the  aggressive  poUcy  of  Eric  Menved  of  Denmark  (1307- 
19),  that  kingdom  went  to  pieces,  and  the  League  became  more 
active.  Meetings  became  more  frequent,  and  many  new  members 
were  admitted.  By  the  middle  of  the  fourteenth  century,  a 
division  of  the  whole  confederation  into  three  sections  was 
recognized,  with  Wisby  at  the  head  of  the  far  northern  and  eastern 
settlements;  Liibeck  at  the  head  of  the  Wendish  and  Saxon  towns. 


268  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

and  Cologne  at  the  head  of  the  Prussian  and  Westphalian  towns. 
Liibeck  was  recognized  as  the  capital  of  the  whole  League.     The 
event  which  brought   the   cities  into  closest  association  was  the 
attack  by  Waldemar  of  Denmark  on  the  city  of  Wisby  in  1361. 
The  representatives  of  the  Hanse  cities  immediately  decided  to 
cut  off  all  intercourse  with  Denmark,  and  at  a  second  meeting 
entered  into  an  alliance  with  Sweden,  Norway,  and  Holland  to 
make  war  on  Denmark.     A  tax  was  levied  for  the  war,  which  all 
cities  were  ordered  to  levy  in  the  form  of  an  export  duty.    The 
first  action  in  which  the  League  engaged  resulted  in  a  crushing 
defeat.     A  truce  was  entered  into;    but  on  the  renewal  of  Danish 
aggression  against  German  commerce,  the  Hanse  assembly  at 
Cologne  in  1367  declared  war  again,  and  threatened  any  city  that 
would  not   take   part  in   the   conflict   with  expulsion  from  the 
League.     In   1368   Copenhagen  was  taken;    the  next  year   Hel- 
singborg  was    reduced;    the  king  of   Norway  was  compelled  to 
withdraw  from  the  Danish  aUiance  and  to  grant  the  Germans 
special  privileges;   and  in  1370  the  Danes  entered  into  the  Treaty 
of  Stralsund,  by  which  all  the  forts  and  two-thirds  of  the  revenues 
of  Skaania  were  granted  to  the  Hansa  for  fifteen  years,  and  the 
Danes  agreed  that  no  king  should  be  placed  on  the  Danish  throne 
without  the  consent  of  the  League.     The  occupation  of  Skaania 
and  the  protection  of  the  fisheries  and  the  navigation  of  the  Sound 
were  to   be  vested  in  the  Hansa  for  but  fifteen  years;  but  the 
assumption  of  this  responsibihty  and  the  necessity  of  watching 
the  course  of  events  in  the  three  Scandinavian  kingdoms  com- 
pelled the  League  to  maintain  a  permanent  armament  and  to 
continue  the  system  of  federal  taxation.     The  meetings  of  the 
delegates  of  the  towns  necessarily  became  more  frequent,  and 
the    character   of    the   business    transacted   naturally   caused   a 
greater  consolidation  of  the  League.     The  reputation  gained  in 
the  Danish  war  and  the  greater  unity  brought  about  by  the  new 
conditions  made  the  Hansa  a  power  to  be  respected.     The  Hanse 
towns  secured  the  duchy  of  Schleswig  for  Holstein,  and  constantly 
intervened  in  the  struggles  that  followed  the  Union  of  Kalmar. 
Not  only  did  the  League  exercise  the  functions  of  a  state  in  dealing 


THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  COMMERCE  269 

with  foreign  affairs ;  it  also  began  to  concern  itself  with  the  internal 
affairs  of  the  constituent  towns.  When  the  craftsmen  of  the 
towns  began  to  rebel  against  the  merchant  aristocracy,  the  League 
took  the  part  of  the  latter,  as  in  1374,  when  Brunswick  was  expelled 
from  the  League  because  the  populace  had  overthrown  the  ruling 
council  of  merchants.  Expulsion  from  the  League  would  bring 
such  distress  to  any  commercial  town  that  it  became  a  sure  weapon 
for  the  prevention  of  internal  disorders. 

Here  we  have  both  the  external  and  the  internal  exercise  of 
sovereignty.  The  pohtical  structure  was  never  perfect,  but  it 
was  quite  as  perfect  as  that  of  many  communities  whose  territory 
was  contiguous.  Most  of  the  Hanse  cities  owed  allegiance  to 
territorial  rulers,  but  this  allegiance  was  often  merely  nominal; 
and  when  it  came  to  a  choice  between  obeying  the  Hanse  law 
and  obeying  the  territorial  law,  it  was  usually  safer  to  ignore 
the  latter.  The  pohtical  structure  was  that  of  a  strong  confeder- 
ation, but  had  the  League  continued  to  prosper,  a  true  state  might 
have  been  formed,  in  spite  of  the  nominal  territorial  allegiance 
and  the  lack  of  territorial  contiguity. 

The  failure  to  develop  a  permanent  pohtical  structure  was  due 
to  several  causes,  chief  of  which  was  the  loss  of  commercial  suprem- 
acy. In  1478  Novgorod  lost  its  freedom  before  the  advance  of 
Russian  power,  and  the  civihzation  of  that  region  suffered  an 
echpse.  Soon  after,  the  Prussian  and  Livonian  cities  were 
detached  from  the  League.  Sweden  j&nally  separated  from 
Denmark,  and  the  turbulent  nobihty  of  both  countries  fell  before 
the  royal  power.  Both  countries  began  to  build  up  national  com- 
mercial associations  to  compete  with  the  Hansa.  In  France  the 
national  power  had  developed  so  early  that  the  cities  had  never 
been  permitted  to  enter  the  League.  In  England  the  Tudors 
came  to  the  throne,  and  were  bent  on  building  up  national  indus- 
tries. The  efforts  of  Edward  III  to  develop  the  cloth  industry 
had  resulted  in  the  manufacture  of  better  grades  of  cloth,  but  it 
was  not  until  the  Tudor  period  that  Enghsh  manufactures  could 
seriously  compete  with  the  Flemish  and  German.  Before  the 
final  expulsion  of  the  Hansa  by  Ehzabeth,  the  Enghsh  merchants 


270  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

were  becoming  an  influential  class.  The  fiscal  arrangements  of 
the  crown,  whereby  staple  towns  had  been  estabhshed,  resulted 
in  the  stimulation  of  the  home  merchants;^  and  after  the  Eng- 
lish cloth  manufacture  became  able  to  compete  with  the  foreign, 
the  plan  of  organization  which  had  been  worked  out  by  the  staple 
merchants  was  used  by  some  of  them  and  by  cloth-finishers, 
and  the  "merchant  adventurers"  undertook  the  exploitation  of 
English  cloth  in  foreign  markets."  This  organization  began 
operations  early  in  the  fifteenth  century  and  led  the  way  in  build- 
ing up  an  export  trade  in  the  hands  of  English  merchants.  ^  As 
these  merchants  became  more  powerful,  they  began  to  contest 
the  monopoly  of  the  Hansa  in  the  Baltic,  and  brought  such  pres- 
sure to  bear  upon  the  government  that  the  League  was  finally 
banished  from  England.-* 

Crippled  by  the  loss  of  the  Novgorod  trade  and  by  the  growing 
power  of  the  English  merchants,  confronted  by  stronger  poHtical 
powers  in  the  North,  the  Hansa  ceased  to  be  an  important  factor; 
and  when,  about  the  middle  of  the  fifteenth  century,  the  herring 
which  had  been  frequenting  the  waters  off  Skaania  moved  to  the 
coasts  of  Holland,  another  great  source  of  profit  was  cut  off. 
While  a  few  of  the  members  continued  to  derive  some  advantages 
from  association,  the  once-powerful  organization  dwindled  into 
insignificance.  Based  chiefly  on  the  control  of  commerce  between 
the  two  extreme  centers  of  trade,  when  this  was  lost  there  was  no 
enduring  structure  that  could  withstand  disintegration,  s  And 
when  we  add  to  this  misfortune,  the  loss  of  exclusive  privileges 
in  the  Baltic  and  of  the  profitable  fisheries  which  had  supphed  the 
demand  of  so  many  Catholic  communities,  we  have  a  sufl&cient 
explanation  of  the  decay  of  Hanseatic  commerce  and  the  disin- 
tegration of  the  League. 

Here  we  note  the  difference  between  a  commercial  league  and 

'  Schanz,  op.  cit.,  I,  327-31. 

»  Ibid.,  331-333;   Ashley,  History  0}  the  Woollen  Industry,  353-58. 

3  Ryner,  Fcedora,  II,  102. 

4  Craik,  op.  cit.,  I,  233-35. 

5  Schanz,  op.  cit.,  1,  181. 


THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  COMMERCE  271 

such  national  states  as  were  springing  up.  Commerce,  as  we 
have  seen,  represented  a  real  differentiation  of  function  in  the 
larger  whole  which  had  formerly  been  merely  a  mass  of  self-depend- 
ent communities  held  together  in  a  rather  artificial  way  by  the 
common  ideals  which  had  been  carried  over  from  antiquity. 
Since  the  economic  means  had  at  last  been  found  for  the  reaHzation 
of  the  ethical  end,  it  might  be  expected  that  a  political  structure 
would  be  developed  that  would  comprehend  all  of  the  industrial 
communities  amongst  which  a  division  of  labor  had  been  estab- 
lished for  the  benefit  of  the  whole.  We  have  already  noted  the 
tendency  of  political  structure  to  conform  to  the  economic  division 
of  function.  The  feudal  organization,  which  meant  the  disinte- 
gration of  Europe,  had  arisen  because  it  corresponded  to  the 
economic  organization  of  the  manor.  Again,  when  the  economic 
activities  went  beyond  manorial  groups,  the  latter  decayed  and  a 
movement  began  in  the  direction  of  a  larger  pohtical  organization 
which  would  correspond  to  the  larger  economic  activities.  But 
this  movement  was  arrested,  and  modem  society  still  presents  the 
spectacle  of  numerous  political  divisions  in  spite  of  the  essential 
economic  interdependence  of  the  various  parts. 

The  causes  of  this  failure  of  the  growing  organic  society  to 
form  for  itself  a  single  world-state  were  numerous.  Among  the 
most  apparent  were  the  differences  of  race  and  language.  When 
the  national  states  were  finally  estabhshed,  we  find  that  the  divi- 
sions were  made  on  pretty  well-defined  race  lines.  Differences 
of  race  meant  differences  in  many  minor  ideals,  tastes,  habits, 
and  temperament,  which  the  great  unifying  ideals  of  Christendom 
could  not  obliterate.  Linguistic  differences  were  then  much  less 
important  than  these  physical  and  psychical  differences,  for  the 
languages  of  the  West  were  still  in  a  state  of  flux  when  the 
national  separations  precipitated  the  formation  of  the  present 
linguistic  groups  and  inspired  the  great  national  literatures.  Still 
there  were  real  differences  in  speech  which  tended  to  set  different 
communities  off  from  one  another.  Even  the  Germanic  Hansa 
which  was  so  Httle  bound  by  considerations  of  race  and  language 
was  predominantly  German  and  stamped  its  Germanic  character 


272  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

upon  the  outlying  communities  that  came  under  its  control.  The 
commercial  league  tended  to  transcend  racial  hnes,  but  was  never 
wholly  able  to  do  so. 

Geographical  and  cUmatic  differences  likewise  tended  to  create 
and  perpetuate  differences  in  habits  of  Hfe,  and  consequently,  in 
ideals.  The  architecture,  clothing,  and  food  of  one  section  would 
have  to  differ  in  some  respects  from  those  of  another;  and  indus- 
tries would  therefore  develop  which  could  supply  only  a  purely 
local  demand  and  could  not  function  for  the  whole  of  Europe. 
In  proportion  as  these  local  activities  determined  by  geographical 
conditions  became  important,  they  constituted  an  obstacle  to  the 
formation  of  a  world-empire.  Complete  interdependence  was 
not  estabUshed;  and  many  purely  local  industries  were  the  most 
important  of  all  carried  on  by  the  community. 

One  of  the  most  important  causes  of  the  phenomenon  we  are 
considering  was  the  fact  that  the  economic  activities  frequently 
changed  their  direction  very  rapidly,  while  the  political  structure 
could  be  readjusted  only  gradually.  A  change  in  the  supply  or 
the  demand  of  a  given  region  might  cause  a  complete  dislocation 
in  economic  arrangements;  but  a  society  must  have  an  organiza- 
tion which  can  live  through  good  times  and  bad.  It  is  true  that  an 
economic  change  may  be  so  radical  that  the  political  structure  will 
have  to  crumble,  as  we  have  already  seen  in  more  than  one  instance; 
but  the  structure  of  a  society  must  be  able  to  resist  many  tem- 
porary economic  vicissitudes.  In  the  case  of  the  Hansa,  which 
came  nearest  to  forming  a  political  organization  on  purely  eco- 
nomic lines,  the  cutting-off  of  the  Novgorod  trade  was  sufficient  to 
rack  the  whole  organization,  though  the  internal  life  of  the  con- 
stituent cities  was  not  affected  in  such  a  way  as  seriously  to 
endanger  them.  Their  prosperity  was  lessened,  but  they  were 
soon  able  to  readjust  themselves  to  new  local  conditions,  and  to 
maintain  their  community  life  much  as  they  had  done  before. 
The  position  taken  throughout  this  essay  is  that  economic  activi- 
ties are  fundamental,  and  must  in  the  end  determine  social  organ- 
ization; but  it  is  only  in  the  earliest  stages  of  culture  that  the 
economic  life  immediately  determines  ethical  and  political  ques- 


THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  COMMERCE  273 

tions.  At  a  very  early  stage  there  emerge,  as  a  result  of  the 
primary  Ufe-furthering  activities,  certain  ethical,  aesthetic,  and 
political  ideals  and  institutions  which  must  forever  after  react 
upon  the  economic  life,  or  even  cause  the  latter  to  be  temporarily 
disregarded.  A  given  group  may  prefer  poverty  and  political 
integrity  to  prosperity  with  a  change  in  political  institutions. 

Now  the  great  merchant  burghers  cared  for  little  but  economic 
advantage  and  economic  advantage  for  their  own  class  at  that,  and 
they  frequently  ignored  many  of  the  motives  which  impel  men  to 
poHtical  organization.  It  was  by  appealing  to  these  other  motives 
that  the  poUticians  could  build  their  states.  Only  in  times  of 
greatest  prosperity  would  the  mass  of  the  people — those  engaged 
in  agriculture,  in  the  local  crafts,  and  in  subordinate  positions 
in  the  commercial  crafts — loyally  support  the  merchant-aristocracy. 
In  the  Italian  cities  the  populace  quickly  put  the  power  into  the 
hands  of  the  demagogues.  The  northern  cities  did  not  meet  with 
a  like  fate  because  their  foreign  trade  meant  a  more  general  inter- 
nal prosperity;  but  there  was  no  spirit  of  patriotism  which  could 
hold  the  League  together  when  economic  advantage  was  no  longer 
to  be  derived  from  association.  Then,  too,  the  leaders  of  a  purely 
commercial  organization  did  not  care  to  exercise  political  func- 
tions except  for  economic  advantage.  The  commercial  cities 
could  produce  great  statesmen  and  soldiers;  the  Hansa  carried 
on  war,  negotiated  treaties  of  peace  and  commercial  conventions, 
and  could  coerce  its  recalcitrant  members;  but  aU  of  these  activi- 
ties were  carried  on  chiefly  in  the  interest  of  commerce.  While 
a  League  patriotism  was  not  wholly  wanting,  a  given  city  would 
drop  out  of  the  association  when  its  commercial  interests  were  no 
longer  served  by  its  adhesion;  and  no  steps  were  ever  taken  to 
enlarge  the  membership,  or  to  bind  the  members  more  closely 
together,  except  for  purely  commercial  ends.  The  national 
statesmen,  on  the  other  hand,  regarded  industry  simply  as  a 
means  to  an  end;  and  that  end  was  the  State. 

The  interest  of  the  burghers,  then,  was  in  the  economic  means; 
that  of  the  nationalists  in  the  political  structure.  Both  parties 
were  losing  sight  of  the  ethical  ideals  of  social  life  which  had  been 


274  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

the  mainstay  of  Europe  throughout  the  period  of  economic  and 
political  chaos.  In  this  neglect  of  the  ends  of  social  life  we  shall 
find  one  of  the  chief  defects  of  modern  society.  On  the  one  hand, 
we  find  a  tendency  to  ignore  natural  economic  conditions  and  all 
other  natural  developments,  or  to  use  them  simply  to  build  up  the 
strong  State  and  to  minister  to  a  narrow  chauvinism ;  on  the  other, 
there  is  an  attempt  to  use  the  State  as  a  mere  machine  for  the 
getting  of  wealth.  The  State  can  not  properly  be  made  the  end 
of  social  acti\dty:  it  is  only  the  mechanism  for  the  adjustment  of 
means  to  end;  and  yet,  on  the  whole,  it  was  more  important  at 
the  end  of  the  Middle  Ages  that  efforts  should  be  directed  to  the 
perfecting  of  even  very  artificial  political  organizations  which 
could  conserve  what  had  already  been  attained  and  could  serve 
as  the  starting-points  for  new  developments,  than  that  the  indus- 
trial activities  should  wholly  control  and  society  be  left  structure- 
less and  at  the  mercy  of  every  economic  crisis  or  subject  to  the 
selfish  plans  of  a  merchant-aristocracy.  It  was  in  the  interest  of 
real  progress  that  the  commercial  leagues  passed  away  and  left 
Europe  to  the  national  statesmen.^ 

THE  NATIONAL  STATE 

The  survival  of  the  political  traditions  on  which  the  national 
statesmen  built  is  an  indication  of  the  strength  of  extra-economic 
forces  in  society  with  which  the  commercial  statesmen  could  not 
grapple.  When  the  agricultural  organization  was  perfected  and 
numerous  domains  began  to  coalesce,  the  stronger  seigneurs 
prospered  at  the  expense  of  the  weaker.  But  a  great  lord's  ability 
to  extend  his  dominions  was  limited  by  the  presence  of  some 
neighbor  of  practically  the  same  strength,  against  whom  it  would 
have  been  madness  to  make  aggression.    When  the  communes 

'  Wonns  gives  an  interesting  account  of  the  causes  of  the  decadence  of  the 
Hansa  {op.  cit.,  327-45);  but  most  of  these  are  secondary  causes  growing  out  of 
those  discussed  above.  Religious  differences,  of  which  he  makes  a  great  deal, 
probably  had  Uttle  to  do  with  the  disruption  of  the  League.  The  Thirty  Years' 
War  would  have  destroyed  the  League,  but  it  was  dead  long  before  that  period. 
The  divisions  which  finally  took  place  on  account  of  religious  differences  coincided 
pretty  closely  with  race  differences  which  could  have  been  reconciled  only  with 
great  difficulty  in  a  single  nation. 


THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  COMMERCE  275 

arose  and  threw  off  allegiance  to  the  local  seigneurs,  they  were 
usually  very  willing  to  acknowledge  the  nominal  sovereignty  of 
the  higher  feudal  lords  who  had  probably  befriended  them. 
When  one  of  these  greater  lords  had  gathered  together  large  do- 
minions containing  rich  and  populous  towns  and  fertile  fields,  he 
was  stopped  from  further  progress  because  he  had  now  reached 
the  borders  of  some  equally  powerful  lord.  From  conflicts  among 
these  great  dukes  and  counts  there  resulted  the  elimination  of 
some  of  the  weaker  and  the  aggrandizement  of  the  stronger.  A 
balance,  however,  was  always  reached  somewhere,  and  no  one 
dreamed  of  universal  empire.  There  was  no  Charlemagne  in 
the  days  of  Louis  XI  and  Charles  the  Bold,  nor  had  there  been 
two  centuries  earlier  when  the  integrating  movement  began.  The 
theory  of  the  Holy  Roman  Empire  was  no  longer  a  ruling  ideal, 
and  there  was  neither  the  statesmanship  to  formulate  a  new  plan 
of  universal  government,  nor  the  generalship  and  the  resources 
to  carry  one  out.  Nor  could  any  Charlemagne  have  filled  a  place 
requiring  so  much  inventive  genius:  the  real  Charlemagne  had 
stood  only  for  an  old  ideal  which  had  been  worked  out  through 
the  ages.  Now,  under  these  circumstances,  it  was  but  natural 
that  men  should  prefer  to  stand  by  their  old  local  sovereigns  when 
conflicts  took  place;  and  so,  after  numerous  conflicts,  national 
lines  became  pretty  definitely  drawn,  and  local  sovereigns  were 
able  to  apply  to  their  own  realms  the  theories  of  unity  which  had 
all  along  been  held  of  Europe  as  a  whole. 

Therefore,  we  find  national  states  arising  at  the  ver}'  time 
when  it  seemed  that  the  ideals  of  a  unified  Christendom  were 
nearest  of  realization.  The  general  histories  treat  so  completely 
the  political  movements  which  resulted  in  the  formation  of  the 
modern  states  that  little  need  be  said  here  except  with  reference 
to  the  bearing  of  this  new  political  movement  on  the  ethical  and 
economic  development.  This  bearing  has  already  been  indicated  in 
so  far  as  the  development  of  the  communes  and  the  displacement 
of  the  embryonic  commercial  state  were  concerned. 

We  have  already  seen  that  political  and  economic  conditions 
were  such  that  Italy  could  not  achieve  national  consolidation;  and 


276  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

that  the  lingering  feudal  struggles  in  Germany  resulted  in  the 
maintenance  of  a  decaying  feudal  hierarchy,  on  the  one  hand, 
and  the  rise  of  the  commercial  cities  which  assumed  all  the  powers 
of  sovereignty,  on  the  other.  The  Norman  kingdom  in  Apulia 
and  Sicily  was  the  first  national  state  to  arise;  but  this  was  so 
far  removed  from  the  real  life  of  Europe  that  it  may  be  ignored 
here.  A  brief  account  of  the  rise  of  the  great  states  and  of  the 
later  course  of  events  in  Germany  will  be  suflScient  for  our  purposes. 
In  France  feudalism  had  triumphed  at  Senlis  in  987;  but  in 
giving  the  royal  power  to  the  Capetiens  it  established  a  dynasty 
which  was  to  found  a  monarchy  more  absolute  than  the  Carolin- 
gians  ever  dreamed  of.  For  this  house,  starting  with  extensive 
and  tolerably  well-organized  domains,  usually  represented  by 
crafty  and  ambitious  men,  throwing  itself  at  first  in  line  with 
the  feudal  development  and  later  allying  itself  with  the  industrial 
forces,  consistently  built  up  its  power  and  turned  its  suzerainty 
into  sovereignty,  until  it  had  developed  a  self-centered  absolutism 
which  only  the  Revolution  could  overthrow.  The  real  beginning 
of  the  monarchy  was  made  in  the  early  part  of  the  twelfth  century, 
when  Louis  VI  reduced  his  own  little  duchy,  comprising  the  Isle 
of  France,  Orleans,  and  a  few  neighboring  estates,  to  complete 
subjection,  practically  uprooting  feudalism.^  Philip  Augustus 
added  to  his  territorial  possessions  until  his  power  was  vastly 
greater  than  that  of  his  neighbors,*  and  everywhere  established 
the  principle  of  absolute  and  hereditary  monarchy  begun  by 
Louis  le  Gros.  This  monarch  won  Normandy,  Anjou,  and 
Poitou  from  the  Angevins,  and  by  allying  himself  with  the  Albi- 
gensian  Crusade  he  was  able  to  extend  his  power  to  southern 
France.  Philip's  administrative  reforms,  whereby  the  impor- 
tant political  functions  were  taken  from  hereditary  barons  and 
vested  in  an  ofiicial  class,  enabled  the  monarchy  to  withstand 
the  disorders  of  the  minority  of  Louis  IX,  and  made  possible 
the  establishment  by  that  ruler  of  a  government  even  stronger 
than  that  of  his  grandfather.    Louis  XI,  perhaps  the  shrewdest 

I  Luchaire,  «?/>.  cit.,  II,  298.     The  Capetiens  also  possessed  numerous  scattered 
estates  in  various  parts  of  France,  but  the  compact  territory  was  the  important  part, 
a  Ibid.,  255. 


THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  COMMERCE  277 

of  his  race,  practically  completed  the  unification  of  France  and 
definitely  began  to  foster  the  national  industries.  By  his  death 
(1483),  the  great  houses  of  Burgundy,  Anjou,  Bourbon,  and 
Orleans  which  stood  for  the  old  order  had  been  overthrown,  and 
France  had  developed  into  a  modern  state.  The  national  policy 
reached  its  culmination  under  Louis  XIV,  with  the  destruction 
of  the  last  feudal  castle  by  Richelieu  (1626),  and  in  the  mercantile 
policy  of  Colbert  (1662-83),  which  swept  away  the  last  vestiges 
of  the  independence  of  the  commercial  commune. 

The  Enghsh  monarchy  was  pretty  strongly  established  by  the 
Conqueror;  but  feudaUsm  revived  under  Stephen,  and  was  not 
overthrown  until  Bosworth  Field  (1488),  after  the  mutual  destruc- 
tion of  the  barons  had  been  accomphshed  by  the  Wars  of  the 
Roses.  Henry  VII  found  his  power  resting  upon  the  good-will 
of  the  commercial  classes  whose  prosperity  had  been  increasing 
during  the  entire  period  of  dynastic  disturbance."  He  found 
himself  in  a  position  to  stimulate  industries,  especially  the  manu- 
facture of  cloth  which  had  been  growing  steadily  since  the  time 
of  Edward  III,  but  which  had  never  yet  been  able  to  compete 
successfully  with  wool-growing  and  other  agricultural  pursuits. 
Encouragement  was  likewise  given  to  English  merchants  to  engage 
in  foreign  commerce;  and  thus  the  way  was  prepared  for  the 
great  commercial  and  maritime  operations  of  the  Ehzabethan 
Age.  The  Enghsh  mercantile  policy  reached  its  culmination  in 
the  Navigation  Acts  of  Cromwell  (1651,  1660),^  the  contemporary 
of  the  great  French  mercantihst;  and  the  wars  with  the  Nether- 
lands, which  followed  these  acts,  gave  England  an  advantage  over 
that  great  commercial  nation  which  was  never  afterward  lost;^ 
while  the  War  of  the  Spanish  Succession  (1702-13)  laid  the  foun- 
dation of  England's  colonial  empire  and  estabhshed  her  naval 
supremacy. "» 

I  Rogers,  Six  Centuries  of  Work  and  IWages,  332-34. 

^Of  course,  the  second  of  these  acts  was  after  Cromwell's  time,  since  he  died 
in  1658,  but  the  poUcy  was  his,  and  the  second  act  was  but  a  continuation  of  the 
first. 

3  Cf.  Seeley,  Expansion  of  England,  86. 

4  Ibid.,  32  ff. 


278  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

The  unification  of  Spain  was  accomplished  through  the  efiforts 
of  the  Christians  to  throw  ofiF  the  Moorish  yoke.  The  national 
feelings  aroused  by  this  achievement  account  for  the  appropria- 
tion of  the  civilization  and  industries  built  up  by  the  Moors 
and  the  eagerness  with  which  voyages  of  discovery  were  under- 
taken when  the  old  route  to  the  East  was  cut  off  by  the  Turkish 
victories.  Portugal  preceded  Spain  in  maritime  enterprises. 
Assured  of  independence  of  Castile,  John  I  turned  his  attention 
to  Africa.  Ceuta  was  taken  in  141 5.  A  naval  academy  was 
established  to  further  voyages  of  discovery.  Pope  Martin  V 
granted  him  the  right  of  conquest  from  the  Canaries  to  the  Indies. 
Before  the  middle  of  the  fifteenth  century  a  trade  in  gold  and 
negroes  from  Africa  brought  enormous  wealth  to  the  Portuguese; 
and  before  the  end  of  the  century  the  discovery  of  the  sea  route 
to  India  enabled  them  to  build  up  a  monopolistic  trade  in  oriental 
wares,  spices,  and  gems.  But  the  Spanish  operations  in  America 
soon  overshadowed  those  of  Portugal,  and  the  precious  metals 
which  flowed  in  from  Mexico  and  Peru  not  only  made  Spain  the 
wealthiest  country  of  Europe,  but  transformed  the  life  of  Europe 
itself.  In  the  sixteenth  century  the  total  volume  of  money  in 
Europe  was  increased  more  than  fourfold.^  Aside  from  the 
advantages  of  the  new  commerce  in  luxuries  and  in  commodities 
which  had  been  luxuries,  but  which  were  now  passing  into  general 
consumption,*  these  large  importations  of  precious  metals  gave 
Spain  resources  for  the  maintenance  of  standing  armies  and 
fleets,  and  wealth  with  which  to  secure  any  of  the  products  of 
Europe.  Under  these  circumstances,  it  was  not  strange  that 
money  came  to  be  regarded  as  the  chief  source  of  national  power. 
It  seemed  desirable  to  secure  as  much  gold  and  silver  as  possible 
and  to  prevent  it  from  passing  out  of  the  country  by  artificially 
maintaining  a  favorable  balance  of  trade.  Charles  V  was  the 
original  mercantilist,  ^  the  founder  of  the  restrictive  system,  and 

'  Pigeonneau,  op.  cit.,  II,  16.     Cf.  Schanz,  op.  cit.,  I,  482-85. 
»  The  ability  to  buy  without  producing  was,  in  the  long  run,  a  disadvantage 
to  Spain,  for  national  industries  were  not  built  up  as  in  other  countries. 

3  That  is,  in  the  sense  that  mercantilism  was  adopted  as  a  thoroughgoing 


THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  COMMERCE  279 

gave  the  cue  to  all  Europe.  The  poUcy  of  isolated  development 
seemed  to  be  the  way  to  national  greatness.  While,  therefore, 
other  nations  had  their  beginnings  eariier,  Spain  was  the  first 
to  reach  the  ideal  which  all  had  set  before  them,  and  set  the  pace 
for  Europe  in  bringing  a  national  economy  to  the  assistance  of 
the  poHtical  forces  which  were  making  for  national  life. 

The  Netherlands  achieved  national  independence  through  the 
struggle  for  existence  against  Spanish  oppression.  The  towns 
and  provinces  retained  much  of  their  local  independence;  but 
even  the  Burgundian  administration  had  done  much  for  the 
economic  unity  of  the  country,  and  the  eighty  years'  struggle  for 
independence  necessitated  a  centrahzed  poUcy.  It  is  sometimes 
said  that  the  Dutch  never  adopted  the  mercantiUst  policy.  In  a 
certain  sense  this  is  true;  for,  having  devoted  themselves  to  a 
few  specialized  manufactures  and  having  come  to  depend  largely 
on  their  world-wide  trade,  it  was  never  to  their  interest  to  main- 
tain a  "favorable  balance  of  trade,"  Yet  no  other  nation  more 
consistently  used  political  power  for  commercial  ends.  The 
colonial  policy,  the  navigation  poHcy,  the  fisheries  were  strictly  reg- 
ulated by  the  central  power.  A  strict  monopoly  was  maintained 
in  the  East  Indian  empire  which  had  been  wrested  from  the  Portu- 
guese; the  tolls  imposed  at  the  mouth  of  the  Rhine  put  the  trade 
of  that  river  in  Dutch  hands ;  naval  preponderance  in  the  Baltic 
was  taken  advantage  of  to  control  trade ;  the  German  foreign  trade 
was  almost  monopolized  by  the  Dutch,  and  remained  dependent 
upon  them  till  the  middle  of  the  eighteenth  century.  During  the 
entire  period  of  their  national  greatness,  they  were  carrying  on 
wars  for  commercial  ends.  In  the  truest  sense  of  the  word,  no 
other  nation  so  completely  carried  out  the  mercantiUst  policy. 
The  Dutch  were  not  lacking  in  patriotism,  in  national  spirit  and 
love  of  country;  but  the  Netherlands  remained  a  large  commer- 
cial community  and  used  political  power  to  further  economic  ends. 
The  chief  characteristic  of  the  other  states  was  the  pre-eminence 
of  political  interests;    but  even  with  them  political  policy  had  to 

policy.  Restrictive  regulations  had  been  made  as  early  as  the  fourteenth  century 
by  Florence,  England,  France,  and  other  countries. 


28o  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

conform  in  general  to  economic  requirements,  and  after  political 
unity  had  been  firmly  established  the  activities  of  these  states 
were  largely  directed  to  the  development  of  national  wealth.  The 
predominance  of  the  commercial  spirit  in  the  Netherlands  was 
probably  due  in  part  to  the  absence  of  a  monarch,  in  part  to  the 
commercial  development  of  the  provinces  before  they  were  united 
in  one  nation. 

The  tendency  in  those  sections  which  did  not  form  themselves 
into  national  states  is  thus  stated  by  Schmoller: 

The  greater  cities  sought  to  widen  themselves  into  territorial  states  by 
the  acquisition  of  villages,  estates,  lordships,  and  country  towns.  In  this  the 
great  Italian  communes  succeeded  completely,  certain  Swiss  towns  and  Ger- 
man imperial  cities  at  least  in  part In  Germany,  however,  it  was,  as 

a  rule,  the  territorial  princedom,  founded  on  the  primitive  association  of 
the  tribe,  and  resting  on  the  corporate  estates  of  communes  and  knights, 
which  created  the  new  political  unit — a  unit  which  had  for  its  characterstic 

the  association  of  town  and  country During  the  period  from  the 

fifteenth  to  the  eighteenth  century,  these  territories,  in  constant  struggle 
with  other  institutions,  grew  not  only  into  political,  but  also  into  economic, 

bodies Territorial   institutions   now   became   the   main   matters   of 

importance,  just  as  municipal  had  been;  like  them,  they  found  a  center 
round  which  to  gravitate;  and  they  sought  to  shut  themselves  off  from  the 
outer  world,  and  to  harmonize  and  consolidate  their  forces  at  home.  And 
thus  arose  an  inclosed  territorial  area  of  production  and  consumption,  a 
territorial  system  of  measures  and  weights  and  currency — an  independent 
territorial  economic  body  which  had  its  own  center  of  gravity,  was  conscious 
of  it,  and  acted  as  a  unit  in  accordance  therewith.' 

Schmoller's  conclusion  from  the  facts  found  in  Germany  that 
the  "territorial"  stage  was  a  necessary  and  universal  one  between 
the  municipal  and  the  national  stages  is  as  unwarranted  as  his 
assumption  of  a  universal  free-mark  system.  This  territorial 
organization  was  found  only  in  Germany.  That  which  approached 
it  in  Italy,  in  some  parts  of  France,  and  in  the  Low  Countries 
scarcely  resembled  the  conditions  described  at  all.  Commonly, 
if  not  universally,  the  commercial  cities  in  the  days  of  their  inde- 
pendence controlled  more  or  less  extensive  agricultural  lands  in 
the  neighborhood.     This  was  true  of  the  German  cities  before 

»  Mercantile  System,  13,  14. 


THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  COMMERCE  281 

the  change  described  by  Schmoller.  These  so-called  territories 
were  nothing  more  nor  less  than  petty  national  states,  founded  on 
the  basis  of  the  ancient  princedom.  They  differed  in  no  respect 
from  the  great  states,  except  that  there  was  no  prince  strong 
enough  to  consoHdate  a  number  of  them  into  one  of  respectable 
size  and  large  resources.  The  general  policy  of  harmonizing 
diverse  interests  and  of  promoting  the  economic  interests  of  the 
whole  community  was  the  same  as  that  of  the  larger  states.  In 
no  case  did  the  territorial  grow  out  of  the  urban  organization, 
except  where  a  city  maintained  its  old  independence  and  con- 
trolled a  small  agricultural  environment;  for  example,  Liibeck 
and  Hamburg. 

There  were  several  reasons  for  the  failure  of  Germany  to 
develop  a  unified  pohtical  organization.  One  of  the  chief  of  these 
was  the  decay  of  German  commerce,  beginning  ^^ath  the  loss  of 
the  Russian  and  EngUsh  trade  and  accelerated  by  the  rise  of  the 
new  maritime  powers  on  the  Atlantic,  whose  trade  soon  surpassed 
that  of  the  Baltic  in  importance.  The  ruin  was  completed  when 
Holland,  Denmark,  Sweden,  and  Poland  gained  control  of  the 
mouths  of  all  the  German  rivers  and  dominated  the  entire  trade 
of  the  Baltic  and  the  North  Sea.  The  cities,  weakened  by  the 
loss  of  prosperity,  fell  an  easy  prey  to  the  territorial  lords  who  had 
been  too  feeble  to  be  considered  an  important  factor  in  the  days 
of  commercial  greatness.  These  lords  were  assisted  in  bringing 
the  cities  under  their  authority  by  the  country  population  which 
had  been  treated  with  scant  consideration  by  the  merchant  burgh- 
ers. The  great  increase  in  the  non-agricultural  population  and 
the  growing  dependence  on  the  neighborhood  for  food  meant 
greater  prosperity  for  the  country  people  and,  consequently, 
greater  power  for  the  landed  proprietors.  The  power  of  the  latter 
could  be  asserted  as  that  of  the  cities  began  to  wane.  Then,  too, 
the  lower  craftsmen  had  been  so  harshly  treated  by  the  rulers  of 
the  cities  that  they  were  very  ready  to  see  the  power  pass  into 
other  hands. 

The  inconvenience  of  many  systems  of  money,  weights,  and 
measures,  and    of    inadequate    police    in    general,   brought  the 


a8a  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

cities  to  realize  the  advantages  of  territorial  government,  even 
when  the  latter  could  introduce  uniformity  into  but  a  compara- 
tively small  area.  The  imperial  power  was  unable  to  co-ordinate 
conflicting  systems  except  in  the  southwest.  Uniformity  was 
introduced  gradually  within  limited  areas;  and  the  currency 
system  for  a  whole  principality  drew  a  "circle  which  bound  the 
territory  into  one  economic  body.'" 

The  traditions  of  the  Empire  and  the  imperial  constitution, 
imperfect  though  the  latter  was,  had  much  to  do  in  arresting  the 
growth  of  large  German  states.  There  was  always  a  strong 
tendency  to  form  the  new  states  on  old  territorial  lines,  and  many 
of  them  were  so  small  that  a  purely  local  policy  was  all  that  was 
required.  In  the  northeast  there  were  large  areas,  but  these 
were  sparsely  populated  and  were  in  a  backward  economic  con- 
dition. With  all  the  ruin  wrought  by  the  Thirty  Years'  War, 
there  was  perhaps  a  gain  in  the  political  readjustments  which  it 
necessitated. 

Thus  we  see  that  while  states  were  formed  in  Germany  in 
much  the  same  manner  as  elsewhere,  the  political  development 
was  arrested  because  the  political  areas  were  too  circumscribed 
to  have  either  national  power  or  a  beneficial  national-economy. 
To  secure  both  of  these  some  of  the  stronger  and  shrewder  princes 
began  to  make  scattered  possessions  contiguous  by  purchasing 
or  conquering  intervening  territories.  But  this  was  a  long  pro- 
cess, extending  in  the  case  of  Prussia  from  the  detachment  of  the 
Brandenburg  towns  from  the  Hanseatic  League  and  the  abohtion 
of  their  right  to  contract  independent  alliances  (1448-88)  to  the 
death  of  Frederick  the  Great  (1786).  The  South  German  states 
had  a  more  rapid  development,  but  none  was  able  to  attain  the 
position  of  respectable  nationality  until  after  the  end  of  the  Mid- 
dle Ages.  The  economic  degeneration  caused  by  the  religious 
wars  would  have  prevented  national  development,  even  had  the 

I  Schmoller  attributes  to  this  cause  alone  the  formation  of  the  territorial 
unit.  He  seems  to  overtook  the  important  economic  changes  which  were  the 
real  determining  causes.  Of  course  after  the  new  unit  was  formed,  the  fiscal  and 
currency  systems  would  have  much  to  do  in  shaping  its  policy  and  preserving  its 
integrity.     Cf.  Mercantile  System,  33-43. 


THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  COMMERCE  283 

political  conditions  been  more  favorable,  Germany  must  be  re- 
garded as  in  a  state  of  arrested  development  both  politically  and 
economically  at  the  time  when  northern  Europe  was  emerging 
into  the  modem  period.^ 

So  Europe  emerged  from  the  great  transition  of  the  Middle 
Ages  broken  up  into  numerous  national  states,  each  pursuing  its 
own  selfish  poHcy,  all  having  definitely  abandoned  the  old  ideal 
of  a  unified  Christendom  which  had  so  long  held  society  together. 
And  this  condition  was  found  at  the  very  time  when  the  ideal 
seemed  nearest  of  realization.  The  economic  means  had  been  found 
for  an  integration  of  society  such  as  had  never  been  known  before. 
Industry  had  approached  that  normal  condition  which  we  have 
all  along  held  to  be  precedent  to  the  reahzation  of  the  ideal  of  an 
organic  society,  wherein  the  interests  of  the  individual  and  of  the 
whole  should  be  identical.  This  normal  functioning  of  the 
individual  for  the  whole  had  not  yet  been  fully  attained,  but  the 
point  had  been  reached  at  which  each  important  section  was 
functioning  for  all  other  sections.  There  were  no  longer  any 
self-sufficient  communities.  Every  community  was  producing 
goods  which  supphed  a  world-demand,  and  everyone  was  depend- 
ing for  the  satisfaction  of  its  wants  upon  industrial  activities  which 
were  going  on  in  all  parts  of  the  world. 

At  this  very  point  Ihere  was  inaugurated  the  narrowest  con- 
ceivable policy,  mercantilism.  In  general,  it  was  held  that  a 
nation  should  produce  everything  needed  for  consumption  or 
bring  it  from  its  own  colonies,  and  that  any  transaction  that 
could  benefit  one  community  must  be  disadvantageous  to  another. 
While  it  was  practically  impossible  to  make  national  policy  con- 
form absolutely  to  this  ideal,  statesmen  endeavored  to  approach 
it  as  nearly  as  possible.  Artificial  stimuh  were  given  to  many 
unprofitable  industries,  and  commercial  wars  and  customs  repri- 
sals were  undertaken  to  destroy  rivals.  Since  complete  commer- 
cial independence  could  not  be  maintained,  a  favorable  balance  of 
trade  had  to  be  secured;   for  it  was  thought  that  a  balance  of  the 

I  For  an  admirable  sketch  of  the  development  of  Prussia,  vide  Schmoller, 
Mercantile  System,  passim. 


284  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

overreachings  of  trade  would  thus  be  credited  to  the  exporting 
nation  and  a  surplus  of  gold  and  silver  obtained  at  the  same  time. 

On  the  whole,  however,  this  movement  was  not  so  serious  an 
obstruction  to  the  course  of  social  development  as  it  appears  to  be 
on  the  surface.  The  reasons  why  the  single  economic  community 
could  not  evolve  a  political  structure  have  already  been  indicated. 
These  were  sufficient  excuse  for  the  national  movement.  A 
world-wide  political  organization  being  out  of  the  question,  the 
division  into  states  was  the  best  arrangement  possible.  The 
existence  of  the  national  state  being  justij&ed,  the  mercantile 
policy,  which  was  simply  the  policy  of  state-making,  was  both 
wise  and  necessary.  Nor  can  it  be  said  that  the  national  pohcy 
was  any  more  selfish  than  the  municipal  poHcy  had  been.  It 
was  simply  more  efiFective  because  the  sphere  to  be  developed 
was  larger  and  the  power  available  for  coercion  greater.  The 
older  interdependence  of  different  communities  could  be  modified 
because  the  division  of  labor  within  the  wide  national  area  could 
be  made  so  much  more  complete  than  was  possible  within  any 
municipality.  In  spite  of  customs  restrictions,  there  was  free 
commercial  intercourse  within  an  area  that  was  wide  for  the 
times.  The  relative  economic  independence  of  given  areas  was 
the  foundation  for  a  peaceful  community  of  great  states. 

Further,  it  can  not  be  doubted  that  a  gain  was  made  when  the 
State  as  an  end  of  economic  activity  was  substituted  for  an  eco- 
nomic activity  which  had  only  possessive  wealth  for  its  end.  The 
sovereign  became  a  high  constable  who  secured  approximate 
justice  for  all  classes  of  subjects;  whereas  the  ruhng  merchants 
had  ignored  the  interests  of  all  classes  save  their  own.  The  in- 
terest of  the  sovereign  was  not  in  wealth,  but  in  national  power; 
but  the  two  were  regarded  as  reciprocally  related,  and  the  king 
ordinarily  had  no  interest  in  favoring  one  class  of  subjects  rather 
than  another.  The  caprice  of  the  monarch  and  the  rapacity  of 
his  courtiers  frequently  caused  much  sufifering;  but  this  was  inci- 
dental to  absolute  monarchy  and  usually  affected  the  rich  and 
powerful  rather  than  the  masses.  In  general,  the  good- will  of  the 
masses  was  sought  by  the  rulers.    It  has  even  been  held  by  some 


THE  DEVELOPMENT  OF  COMMERCE  285 

writers^  that  these  national  states  were  democratic;  but  it  is  an 
unusual  use  of  the  term  to  apply  to  it  a  deference  to  public  opinion 
such  as  is  found  under  the  Russian  autocracy. 

As  this  political  system  secured  substantial,  even  if  uncertain, 
gains  for  the  industrial  population,  so  also  it  eventually  increased 
the  solidarity  of  Europe  which  it  seemed  at  first  to  destroy.  A 
great  deal  of  friction  was  inevitable  while  national  industries  were 
being  estabUshed  and  the  transoceanic  countries  were  being 
divided;  yet  many  of  the  liberal  practices  inaugurated  by  the 
enlightened  selfishness  of  the  commercial  cities  were  kept  up. 
And  while  the  feeUng  of  community  which  had  been  created  by 
the  Church  and  the  Empire  was  lost,  Europe  soon  began  to  seek 
some  other  bond  of  union.  On  the  political  side  this  was  found 
in  the  beginnings  of  the  Law  of  Nations;  and  the  development 
of  its  code  and  the  strengthening  of  its  sanctions  have  marked 
the  growth  of  feeling  of  community  among  civilized  nations, 
parallel  with  the  development  of  a  genuine  functional  unity 
wrought  by  the  industrial  activities  of  civilized  peoples  and  sur- 
passing in  effectiveness  the  mystical  sense  of  solidarity  with  which 
mediaeval  Europe  began.  But  this  is  a  subject  which  will  demand 
our  attention  in  the  next  chapter. 

»E.  g.,  Burgess,  Political  Science  and  Constitutional  Law,  I,  126,  127,  and 
elsewhere. 


CHAPTER  V 
THE  END  OF  THE  MmDLE  AGES 

The  development  traced  in  the  last  chapter  brings  us  to  the 
close  of  the  Middle  Ages.  No  definite  line  can  be  drawn  between 
mediaeval  and  modem  times.  The  fall  of  Constantinople  is 
even  more  arbitrarily  chosen  to  mark  the  close,  than  the  fall  of 
Rome  to  mark  the  beginning,  of  the  great  transition  period;  for 
the  dispersion  of  learned  men  with  their  manuscripts  could  have 
had  no  influence  on  the  thought  of  Europe,  had  not  the  conscious- 
ness of  the  newly  made  society  stimulated  a  romantic  interest  in 
the  beauty  of  classical  literature.  This  hterature,  which  the 
degenerate  remnant  of  a  great  race  had  ceased  to  appreciate  in 
any  vital  sense,  simply  served  as  an  objectification  of  the  con- 
sciousness of  the  new  life  which  was  springing  up  in  Europe. 
Had  that  means  of  objectification  not  been  furnished,  while  the 
awakening  might  have  been  delayed,  it  would  nevertheless  have 
found  other  means  of  expression.  The  JRenaissance  was  a  move- 
ment from  within  the  vigorous  society  of  western  Europe,  not 
the  result  of  the  missionary  effort  by  wandering  Greet  teachers. 

The  consummation  of  the  mediaeval  movement  was  the  attain- 
ment of  economic  interdependence  and  the  formation  of  pohtical 
organizations  more  in  harmony  with  such  an  economic  condition 
than  the  feudal  system  and  the  Holy  Roman  Empire  could  be. 

Thp^modprn  ppfi^d  rliH  rifjt  properly  begin  until  the  demo- 
cratic movement  and  the  Industrial  Revolution  began.  There 
was,  therefore,  a  long  period,  extending  from  the  fall  of  Constan- 
tinople to  the  last  quarter  of  the  eighteenth  century,  correspond- 
ing to  the  period  just  preceding  the  final  overthrow  of  the  Roman 
Empire.  During  this  period,  estabhshed  institutions  and  habits 
of  thought  were  battling  with  the,  pro«ressiy&-J3iQvement,  an'STHe. 
various  elements  of  Thenew.^ociety_were  coming  into  equihbrium. 
Some  of  the  events  of  this  period  haveBeen  anTTcipated  iiTthe  last 

286 


THE  END  OF  THE  MIDDLE  AGES         287 

chapter  in  the  discussion  of  the  methods  by  which  a  community 
of  commercial  nations  was  established.  We  found  that  Europe 
emerged  from  the  Middle  Ages  a  truly  organic  society,  in  which 
a  very  complete  economic  interdependence  was  estabhshed  through 
commerce,  though  the  latter  was  not  wholly  free  from  political 
interference  nor  wholly  freed  from  the  effects  of  a  proportion- 
ately large  trade  in  luxuries.  The  old  ethical  bond  which  had 
served  to  hold  together  the  innumerable  economically  independ- 
ent groups  had  been  destroyed.  The  individuals  of  this  society 
could  have  a  functional  relationship  with  the  whole,  instead 
of  being  bound  to  it  simply  through  the  emotional  consciousness 
developed  by  the  teaching  of  the  Church  and  maintained  by  the 
magical  mediation  provided  by  that  institution;  but  the  conscious, 
individuality  was  not  yet  fully  developed,  because  the  individu- 
al's activity  was  sTill  regulated  by  the  gild  or  other  local  institu- 
tions. The  modem  period  did  not  fuUy  open  until  at  least 
the  beginnings  of  an  international  code  and  a  humanitarian 
philosophy  had  been  made.  This  involved  the  sweeping-away 
of  the  authority  of  the  Church  and  the  aboHtion  of  status  and 
the  restrictions  of  the  gilds. 

During  this  period  which  was  only  beginning  to  be  modem,  a 
number  of  important  events  took  place.  TEere  was  the  Reforma- 
tion whereby  the  authority  of  the  Church  was  permanently 
Broken — to  a  considerable  extent,  even  in  those  countries  which 
remained  most  Cathohc — and  it  became  necessary  to  find  new 
sanctions  for  the  guidance  of  hfe.  The  artisan  was  emancipated 
from  the  regulation  of  the  gilds  and  status  was  broken  in  all  sec- 
tions of  society.  Consequently,  there  was  a  growing  sense  of 
individuahty,  which  finally  produced  the  democratic  movement. 
The  trginsoceanic  lands  were  appropriated  by  Europe;  and  com- 
mercial and  colonial  wars,  lasting  from  1600  to  1800,  determined 
the  relative  positions  of  the  new  nations.  The  great  problems  that 
were  raised  for  Europe  during  this  period  were:  the  destruction 
^f  ecclesiastical  authority,  the  removal  of  intemational  friction, 
aCid  the  freeing  of  the  activity  of  the  individual. 


288  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

THE  REFORMATION  IN  RELIGION 

The  destruction  of  the  authority  of  the  Church  and  the  develop- 
ment of  the  democratic  tendency  were  closely -interrelated  move- 
ments, though  many  features  of  each  were  independent  of  the 
other.  The  real  problem  which  was  being  solved  by  these  con- 
flicts was  the  one  which  has  been  seen  to  run  through  the  whole 
mediaeval  period,  namely,  the  relation  of  the  particular  to  the 
universal.  We  have  already  seen  that,  at  the  time  when  Europe 
was  beginning  to  get  control  of  the  economic  means  by  which 
the  ethical  ideals  of  Christendom  were  to  be  reahzed,  the  impor- 
tance of  the  universal  was  given  definite  statement  by  Anselm, 
and  that  the  Church  suppressed  the  opposing  nominahstic  theory 
which  expressed  the  growing  appreciation  of  the  particular  that 
was  being  used.  The  universals  were  then  all-important  for  the 
development  of  civihzation,  and  were  so  recognized  even  by  the 
nominalists  themselves. 

Now,  by  holding  before  Europe  the  ideals  which  had  come 
from  the  past,  the  Church  had  started  a  movement  that  was 
bound  to  bring  the  particular  facts  of  life  into  greater  importance. 
Further,  while  not  consciously  recognizing  the  possibility  of  social 
reconstruction  in  this  life,  the  Church  had  set  the  example  and  had 
led  in  the  development  of  the  economic  means  by  which  the  social 
ideals  were  to  be  reahzed;  that  is,  in  the  employment  of  the  par- 
ticulars which  in  time  would  exhaust  the  universals  with  which 
the  institution  was  identified.  This  movement,  however,  began 
to  go  beyond  the  bounds  anticipated  by  the  Church.  That 
institution  was  prepared  neither  to  surrender  the  authority  which 
grew  out  of  the  striving  after  the  ideals  that  barbarian  society 
had  received  from  antiquity,  nor  to  countenance  the  practices 
which  the  expansion  of  industrial  activity  necessitated.  There- 
fore, at  the  very  moment  when  the  authority  of  the  universals 
was  slipping  away,  realism  was  given  its  most  definite  expression ; 
and  when  the  needs  of  commerce  were  revolutionizing  economic 
practices,  the  earlier  mediaeval  theory  regarding  prices,  usury, 
etc.,  was  most  positively  stated  by  the  canonists  and  other 
ecclesiastical  authorities.    The  philosophical  statement  of  social 


THE  END  OF  THE  MIDDLE  AGES         289 

relations  and  the  summary  of  the  rules  for  the  government  of 
economic  relations  were  made  by  Thomas  Aquinas  in  the  latter 
half  of  the  thirteenth  centur}'.  His  works  reflect  the  actual  con- 
ditions of  a  period  which  was  then  passing  away;  and  the  eccle- 
siastical institution,  which  was  predominant  during  that  period, 
has  held  the  Summa  theologia  as  its  official  philosophy  down  to 
the  present  day. 

Following  Aristotle,  whose  Organon  had  by  this  time  been 
fully  absorbed  by  Scholasticism,  Aquinas  accepts  the  State  as  a 
necessary  institution  of  social  life.  In  this  he  differs  from  Augus- 
tin  who  regarded  it  as  a  consequence  of  the  Fall.  With  Aquinas, 
man  is  adapted  to  the  State  by  nature,  but  his  higher  destiny  is 
the  salvation  which  can  be  secured  only  in  the  community  of  the 
Church.  "As  the  higher  everywhere  realizes  itself  through  the 
loweiT'and  the  lower  exists  for  the  higher,  the  political  community 
is  to  be  the  preparation  for  that  higher  community  of  the  State 
of  God.  Thus  the  State  becomes  subordinate  to  the  Church  as 
the  means  to  the  end,  as  the  preparatory  to  the  complete."^ 
Here  was  a  recognition  of  the  development  of  the  new  society 
coupled  with  an  insistence  that  the  true  social  condition  was  still 
to  be  realized  only  in  the  New  Jerusalem. 

But  this  harmonious  relation  between  Church  and  State  was 
already  broken.  The  spirit  of  the  Middle  Ages  had  refused  to 
accept  a  dualism  as  final.  The  conflicts  between  Empire  and 
Papacy  would  occasionally  produce  a  practical  dualism,  but  in 
theory  a  unity  of  Church  and  State  was  always  held,  and  the 
unity  was  found  in  the  Church  rather  than  the  State.  Mankind 
was  regarded  as  a  single  community  whose  head  was  God;  and 
while  the  emperor  might  contest  the  claim  of  the  pope  to  temporal 
as  well  as  spiritual  vice-regency,  yet,  on  the  whole,  from  the  time 
of  Gregory  VII,  the  Church  made  good  its  claim.  ^    Now,  how- 

I  Windelband,  History  of  Philosophy,  327. 

»  On  the  subject  of  the  unity  of  the  Church  and  State,  vide  Gierke,  Political 
Theories  of  the  Middle  Age,  9-21.  This  admirable  treatise,  a  translation  by 
Maitland  of  a  small  section  of  the  author's  work  Das  deutsche  Genossenschafts- 
recht,  presents  a  very  complete  statement  of  the  political  theories  of  the  later 
Middle  Ages.     One  could  wish  that  the  author  had  traced  the  historical  develop- 


29©  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

ever,  the  highest  position  that  could  be  accorded  to  the  Church 
by  the  political  power  was  one  of  equality;  and  this  co-ordinate 
position  claimed  for  the  State  was  no  longer  weakened^  by  the 
admission  that  the  Church,  because  occupying  itself  with  higher 
duties,  could  assume  the  headship  when  necessity  demanded; 
as  the  higher  feudal  lord,  who  usually  left  his  vassal  to  his  own 
devices,  could  interfere  when  the  vassal  was  derelict  in  the  per- 
formance of  duty.  At  the  very  time  when  Thomas  was  giving 
definite  expression  to  the  claims  of  the  Church,  Dante  was  pro- 
ceeding from  the  same  conception  of  the  place  of  man  in  the 
State  and  giving  expression  to  the  spirit  of  the  Renaissance.* 

With  Dante  the  relation  of  subordination  [of  State  to  Church]  is  already 
changed  for  that  of  co-ordination.  The  poet  shares  with  the  metaphysician 
the  thought  that  because  man's  destined  end  is  to  be  attained  only  in  the  race; 
this  makes  a  perfect  unity  in  political  organization  requisite.  Both  demand 
the  universal  state,  the  monarchia,  and  see  in  the  Empire  the  fulfilment  of  this 
postulate.  But  the  great  Ghibelline  can  not  think  theocratically,  as  does  the 
Dominican  monk;  and  where  the  latter  assigns  to  the  imperium  the  place 
of  subordination  beneath  the  sacerdotium,  the  former  sets  the  two  over  against 
each  other  as  powers  of  like  authority.  God  has  destined  man  for  earthly 
and  for  heavenly  happiness  in  like  measure:  to  the  former  he  is  conducted 
by  the  State,  by  the  natural  knowledge  of  philosophy;  to  the  latter  he  is 
guided  by  the  Church,  by  means  of  revelation.  In  this 'co-ordination  the 
joy  of  the  world,  characteristic  of  the  Renaissance,  bursts  forth  as  victoriously 
as  does  the  feeling  of  strength  which  belongs  to  the  secular  state. ^ 

Now  when  a  position  of  co-ordinate  importance  is  given  to  the 
Church,  its  authority  is  virtually  denied;  for  this  theory  involves 
an  assertion  of  the  present  importance  of  earthly  society,  and 
turns  over  to  the  Church  only  the  regulation  of  that  future  life 
which  was  steadily  losing  its  hold  on  the  active  interests  of  men. 
However,  it  was  fortunate  that  the  development  proceeded  along 

ment  of  the  various  theories  he  discusses,  instead  of  giving  them  without  reference 
to  their  setting.  Most  of  his  authorities  belong  to  the  period  with  which  we 
are  now  dealing,  when  the  rise  of  the  State  was  causing  men  to  question  the 
pretensions  of  the  Church. 

'  As  had  been  done  by  the  boldest  of  the  adherents  of  the  emperor  in  earlier 
disputes. 

'  De  monarchia,  written  sometime  about  1300.     Thomas  died  1274. 
3  Windelband,  op.  cit.,  327. 


THE  END  OF  THE  MffiDLE  AGES  291 

the  lines  suggested  by  Dante,  for  society  was  not  yet  prepared  to 
ignore  the  bonds  furnished  by  the  Church.  Until  commercial 
interdependence  was  further  advanced  and  men  were  brought 
to  a  sense  of  the  solidarity  of  Europe  through  the  activities  of 
daily  life,  the  abandonment  of  the  ecclesiastical  bond  would 
have  meant  an  indifference  to  the  larger  social  integration  sought 
by  the  Christian  consciousness.  This  was  the  state  of  affairs  in 
southern  France  and  southern  Italy,  where  all  external  conditions 
seemed  most  to  favor  the  Renaissance.  In  southern  France  the 
premature  reformation  of  the  Waldenses  and  the  Albigenses,  on 
the  one  hand,  and  the  wide  acceptance  of  Averroism  spread  by 
Jews  and  Arabs  alike,  on  the  other,  practically  detached  society 
from  the  Church  and  Christianity;  and  in  Sicily  the  blending  of 
Byzantines,  Arabs,  and  Normans  under  the  liberal,  if  not  atheistic, 
Frederick  II  resulted  in  a  civilization  having  as  little  connection 
with  the  rest  of  Christendom  as  its  head  had  sympathy  with  the 
temporal  power  of  the  pope.^  The  real  Renaissance  was  saved 
from  the  dilettantism  of  these  earlier  movements  by  a  nominal 
adherence  to  the  Church.  It  is  true  that  the  men  of  the  fif- 
teenth and  sixteenth  centuries  became  indifferent  toward  religious 
beliefs  and  philosophical  subtleties;  but  by  that  time  the  com- 
mercial and  political  developments  and  the  humanistic  philosophy 
rendered  the  ecclesiastical  bonds  less  necessary,  and  European 
society  could  maintain  the  essential  features  of  unity  at  the  same 
time  that  it  divided  itself  into  the  various  independent  nations. 

The  economics  0}  the  Church. — Before  tracing  farther  the 
development  of  the  new  philosonhy,  it  is  necessary  to  notice  the 
economic  policy  of  the  Church — also  best  expressed  in  the  writ- 
ings of  Aquinas.  This  policy  was  chiefly  concerned  with  two 
economic  phenomena,  prices  and  interest;  and  was  intended  to 
combat  one  of  the  seven  deadly  sins,  avarice.  The  Fathers  had 
added  to  the  natural  institutions  of  the  Roman  jurists,  namely 
marriage  and  the  nurture  of  children,  the  institutions  of  commu- 
nity of  goods  and  personal  liberty.  Private  property  was  regarded 
as  contrary  to  the  gospel.    Trade  and  private  property  were 

'  Gebhart,  op.  cit.,  14-18,  194-200. 


292  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

allowed  to  the  laity  grudgingly,  just  as  slavery  also  was  permitted, 
because  of  the  hardness  of  men's  hearts.  Since  the  Church  had 
to  deal  chiefly  with  nobles  who  acquired  wealth  in  other  ways 
than  by  trade,  the  regulations  were  doubtless  of  considerable 
value.  These  regulations  were  found  in  Canon  Law,  and  were 
given  elaboration  and  exposition  in  the  fifteenth  century;^  but 
the  doctrines  regarding  prices  and  usury  were  given  a  final  state- 
ment by  Thomas  Aquinas  at  the  time  when  trade  was  increasing 
and  the  doctrines  of  the  fundamental  right  of  private  property 
and  of  freedom  of  contract — both  wholly  non-Teutonic  and  non- 
Christian — were  being  drawn  from  Roman  Law  by  the  thousands 
who  went  to  Bologna  for  light  on  political  and  economic  problems. 
The  doctrine  of  justum  pretium  asserted  that  no  more  should 
be  asked  for  an  article  than  it  is  worth — that  is,  than  it  had  cost 
— the  value  of  producers'  and  traders'  services  being  determined 
by  what  was  suitable  for  their  respective  stations  in  life.  The  rule 
was  intended  to  check  the  avarice  of  the  seller,  not  to  protect  the 
buyer,  though  an  overexaction  on  the  part  of  a  landlord  was  con- 
demned both  as  avaricious  and  unjust.  The  rule  had  no  refer- 
ence to  too  low  prices,  for  competition  was  not  operative  except 
in  such  remote  degree  as  to  be  imperceptible  at  the  time.  Since 
capital  played  a  very  subordinate  part  in  production,  and 
since  most  articles  were  produced  near  the  market,  the  status  of 
the  producer  could  be  known  and  prices  could  be  regulated  by 
public  opinion.  This  doctrine  presupposes  a  narrow  community, 
within  which  exchange  was  to  take  place,  and  a  definite  social 
order,  in  which  every  individual  had  his  appropriate  status.     So 

'  The  best  discussion  of  the  rules  of  the  Church  is  given  in  Ashley's  chapter 
on  "The  Canonist  Doctrine,"  at  the  close  of  the  second  voliune  of  his  English 
Economic  History.  I  wholly  accept  his  view  that  the  policy  of  the  Church  was 
originally  well  adapted  to  economic  conditions,  and  that  the  evasions  of  the  law 
were  the  result  of  commercial  ingenuity,  not  of  suggestions  made  by  ecclesiastical 
casuists.  But  it  seems  to  me  that  the  author  does  not  sufficiently  recognize  the 
tendency  of  the  Church  to  maintain  its  old  position  in  the  face  of  economic 
progress.  The  Church  gave  way  gradually,  but  the  writers  of  the  earlier  com- 
mercial period,  such  as  Aquinas,  show  a  disposition  to  hold  on  to  as  much  as 
possible,  not  to  save  the  poor  from  extortion,  but  to  withstand  what  seemed  to  be 
a  general  demoraUzation  of  society. 


THE  END  OF  THE  MIDDLE  AGES         293 

long  as  the  actual  social  conditions  corresponded  to  this  presup- 
position, the  regulations  were  beneficial;  but  when  goods  were 
exchanged  between  distant  communities  and  when  new  oppor- 
tunities were  constantly  stimulating  men  to  new  activities,  it  was 
possible  neither  to  know  the  conditions  of  production  nor  to 
maintain  status.  The  necessities  of  trade  and  the  strength  of 
the  associations  of  merchants  and  artisans  rendered  the  Church 
impotent.  Attempts  were  later  made  to  revive  the  doctrine,  but 
the  barriers  once  broken  down  could  never  be  raised  again. 

Closely  connected  with  the  doctrine  of  fair  price  was  the  prohi- 
bition of  usury.  The  saying  of  Aristotle,  "Money  itself  is  barren," 
was  accepted,  and  rightly,  for  capital  did  not  exist  in  the  earlier 
Middle  Ages.  Money  was  borrowed  for  unproductive  purposes; 
and  the  fact  that  it  was  loaned  was  evidence  both  that  it  could  be 
spared  by  its  owner  and  that  security  was  given  for  its  return. 
Neither  the  knight  who  pawned  his  castle  to  raise  funds  for  a 
crusade,  nor  the  poor  man  who  borrowed  to  tide  him  over  a  period 
of  bad  harvests,  could  employ  the  borrowed  wealth  in  such  a  way 
as  to  produce  a  profit.  Therefore,  the  attitude  taken  by  the 
Church  was  in  the  interest  of  the  needy.  A  canon  of  11 79 
excluded  usurers  from  the  privileges  of  the  Church;  and  spiritual 
penalties  proving  insufficient  in  the  thirteenth  century,  the  wills 
of  unrepentant  usurers  were  declared  invalid  by  the  ecclesiastical 
courts  under  whose  jurisdiction  they  came,  and  other  severe 
penalties  were  enacted.  The  secular  courts  co-operated  with 
the  ecclesiastical  in  attempting  to  put  down  the  odious  practice. 
Aquinas  reaffirms  the  position  of  the  Church  and  denies  that 
money  can  be  put  to  productive  purposes.^ 

But  by  the  latter  part  of  the  thirteenth  century  the  accumula- 
tion of  wealth,  the  extension  of  commerce,  the  opportunity  of 
investment  of  capital  in  ships  and  cargoes,  rendered  interest 
entirely  unavoidable.  If  profit  was  obtainable  by  investment 
there  seemed  no  good  reason  why  the  owner  of  loanable  funds 
should  not  obtain  a  portion  of  the  profit  which  the  borrower  could 

^  E.  g.,  in  Summa  theologim,  question  78,  he  holds  that  money  is  simply  a 
medium  of  exchange  which,  when  spent,  is  totally  consumed. 


294  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

secure  only  with  the  assistance  of  the  capital.  This  sanction  of 
common-sense  was  strengthened  by  the  discovery  that  Roman 
Law  regarded  a  contract  to  pay  interest  as  entirely  legitimate. 
Accordingly,  devices  were  adopted  by  borrowers  and  lenders  by 
which  free  capital  could  be  placed  where  it  was  most  needed,  and 
yet  without  violating  the  letter  of  the  law.  The  simplest  of  these 
devices  was  partnership.  A  capitalist  who  did  not  care  to  make 
a  voyage  could  enter  into  partnership  with  a  captain  or  traveling 
merchant,  providing  all  of  the  capital,  risking  all  that  he  thus 
invested,  and  receiving  a  part  of  the  profits.  If,  as  was  frequently 
the  case,  the  man  who  made  the  voyage  furnished  half  of  the 
capital,  he  ceased  to  be  an  employee  of  the  home-staying  capitalist, 
becoming  the  director  of  the  enterprise  himself  and  paying  a 
smaller  proportion  of  the  total  profits  for  the  use  of  the  borrowed 
capital.  So  long  as  the  lender  shared  the  risks  and  did  not  receive 
a  stipulated  percentage  on  the  loan,  the  Church  justified  this 
practice.  Another  plan  by  which  profits  could  be  obtained  on 
loans  was  that  of  lending  gratuitously  for  a  nominal  period — 
"days  of  grace" — and  then  charging  a  penalty  for  damnum 
emergens — damage  because  of  inability  to  use  the  money  at  the 
time  the  agreement  called  for  its  return — or  for  lucrum  cessans — 
loss  of  profit  that  might  have  been  derived  from  use  of  the  capital, 
had  it  been  returned  at  the  stipulated  time.  The  Church  held 
that  the  loss  by  the  creditor  should  be  proved,  and  that  the  amount 
of  damages  to  be  paid  to  him  should  not  be  agreed  upon  before- 
hand, Aquinas  even  holding  that  the  chances  of  loss  of  the  whole 
principal  were  greater  than  the  possibility  of  gain  by  its  use,  were 
it  returned  at  the  stipulated  time.  By  the  fifteenth  century, 
however,  it  was  held  that  proof  could  be  dispensed  with  in  the  case 
of  merchants  and  traders,  and  it  was  even  permitted  that  a  fijced 
rate  of  interest  could  be  agreed  upon.  The  third  method  by 
which  interest  could  be  obtained  on  loans  was  by  the  purchase 
of  rent-charges.  A  person  who  was  in  receipt  of  rents  could  agree 
to  give  these  rents  to  another  for  the  use  of  capital  loaned  by  the 
latter;  and,  later,  it  was  found  possible  to  sell  a  rent-charge  which 
had  not  existed  before.     No  objection  was  made  to  the  practice 


THE  END  OF  THE  MIDDLE  AGES         295 

until  it  was  carried  to  excess,  when  laws  were  enacted  to  provide 
for  the  redemption  of  the  estates  by  the  return  to  the  creditor  of 
a  sum  aggregating  the  annual  payments  of  a  certain  number  of 
years,  as  ten,  twelve,  or  twenty.  This  amounted  to  a  recognition 
of  the  legitimacy  of  mortgage  loans  at  specified  rates  of  interest. 
In  all  of  these  cases  the  Church  so  far  receded  from  its  earlier 
position  as  to  permit  interest  in  all  transactions  where  loans  were 
contracted  for  purposes  of  trade,  the  prohibitions  that  still  held 
good  applying  only  to  non -commercial  loans.  The  purpose  of 
the  Church,  however,  was  not  so  much  the  protection  of  the  poor 
borrowers,  as  the  preservation  of  its  own  consistency,  where  excep- 
tions had  to  be  recognized,  and  opposition  to  the  growing  avarice, 
where  resistance  was  kept  up. 

While  Thomas  Aquinas  and  the  Canonists  stood  for  the  ancient 
economic  doctrine  on  the  questions  just  mentioned,  they  had 
been  sufficiently  influenced  by  the  progress  of  events  to  depart 
from  the  earlier  view  that  the  use  of  all  property  should  be  com- 
mon to  all  men.  Thomas  justified  private  property  because  private 
ownership  secured  the  best  care  and  the  most  productive  employ- 
ment— very  worldly  considerations — and  because  ownership  had 
a  good  effect  on  character;  but  he  held  that  it  was  justifiable 
only  when  used  for  the  common  good.  As  regards  the  amount 
of  property  that  might  be  owned,  he  again  emphasized  the  statical 
social  order,  by  holding  that  it  should  be  only  such  as  was  suitable 
for  one's  station  in  life.  This  institution,  then,  like  the  State, 
was  allowed  a  position  which  Augustin  would  never  have  recog- 
nized, but  it  was  still  to  be  wholly  subordinate  to  the  ends  .set  bv 
the  Church. 

The  stand  taken  by  the  Church  through  Aquinas  for  the  main- 
tenance of  an  established  economic  order  subordinate  to  the  ethical 
purposes  for  which  the  Church  stood  was  as  ineffectual  as  that 
taken  for  the  subordination  of  the  political  order.  As  the  growing 
political  powers  could  not  recognize  the  latter,  so  the  economic 
institutions  could  not  be  bound  by  the  former.  For  a  time  busi- 
ness would  try  to  adapt  itself  to  the  accepted  moral  standards; 
for  a  time  the  Church  attempted  to  save  the  essential  principles 


296  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

while  pennitting  numerous  exceptions  and  tolerating  much 
casuistry;  but  in  the  end  the  economic  practices  were  worked 
out  without  reference  to  ecclesiastical  rules.  As  soon  as  spiritual 
penalties  proved  insufficient,  we  have  evidence  that  the  power  of 
the  Church  was  waning.  Possessive  wealth  had  become  an  end 
in  itself,  and  the  authority  of  the  Church  was  relegated  to  the  less 
vital  sphere  of  spiritual  things.  Whatever  remnants  of  status 
were  maintained  by  the  gilds  and  the  secular  laws  were  incidental 
to  processes  not  yet  fully  developed,  and  were  wholly  independent 
of  the  policy  of  the  Church.  The  commercial  development  had 
rendered  forever  impossible  the  maintenance  of  a  statical  order 
with  which  men  had  to  remain  content  until  they  should  enter 
the  ideal  society  of  the  other  world.  There  was  no  longer  any 
station  of  life  which  could  be  held  as  necessary  for  any  man ;  con- 
sequently, his  activity  could  not  be  regulated  by  fixed  rules.  Indi- 
viduals were  coming  into  normal  relations  with  society  through 
the  development  of  commerce;  and  while  the  individual  did  not 
freely  function  for  the  whole,  the  ideal  was  so  far  realized  that 
the  Church  was  no  longer  needed  to  mediate  between  the  indi- 
vidual and  the  ideal  whole.  This  was  the  cause  of  the  decay  of 
ecclesiastical  authority. 

The  new  nominalism. — The  individualism  which  was  implied 
in  Augustin's  position  and  which  the  Church  had  always  encour- 
aged on  the  emotional  side,  was  now  being  expressed  in  the  daily 
activities  of  men  in  organic  relations  with  one  another.  Individu- 
ality was  becoming  actual.  It  could  no  longer  be  pushed  off 
into  the  future  life.  This  growing  individualism  was  given  philo- 
sophical expression  in  a  new  nominalism  which,  unlike  that  of 
the  eleventh  century,  was  much  more  than  a  recognition  of  the 
fact  that  the  particulars  were  being  used:  it  was  also  an  assertion 
that  the  universals  had  been  exhausted.  This  position  was  not 
possible  in  the  time  of  Thomas  Aquinas,  but  by  the  end  of  the  four- 
teenth century  the  development  had  proceeded  so  far  that  it  was 
the  express  contention  of  the  opponents  of  the  old  order.  William 
of  Occam,  although  ranging  himself  on  the  side  of  Dante's 
imperium  as  against  Aquinas'  sacerdotum,  was  no  longer  able  to 


THE  END  OF  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  297 

accept  the  realistic  conception  of  the  human  race  as  a  whole 
bound  together  for  the  realization  of  one  end.  "The  nominalist 
sees  as  a  substantial  background  in  social  and  historical  life  only 
the  individuals  who  will,  and  he  regards  State  and  society  as 
products  of  interests  (bonum  commune).  In  theory,  as  in  life, 
individualism  pre\a.i\s.'^^  Here  was  the  beginning  of  a  "contrat" 
theory.  Indeed,  Occam  and  Marsilius  of  Padua  expUcitly 
taught  that  the  title  to  all  rulership  lies  in  the  voluntary  and 
contractual  submission  of  the  ruled;'  and  this  was  urged 
against  the  temporal  pretensions  of  the  pope,  rather  than  against 
political  rulers.  The  practical  application  of  this  theory,  however, 
could  not  be  made  until  the  movement  toward  national  statehood 
was  accomplished.  A  significant  feature  of  these  discussions 
was  their  definite  secularization.  Thenceforth  they  could  be 
carried  on  without  reference  to  ecclesiastical  claims  or  supra- 
mundane  interests.  The  purely  empirical,  non-theological  con- 
sideration of  social  relations  was  begun  by   Nicholas   Oresme 

(d.    I382).3 

Thus,  we  see,  the  authority  of  the  Church  was  very  generally 
set  aside,  except  in  so  far  as  it  could  be  artificially  maintained 
by  the  powerful  organization  which  had  been  the  natural  develop- 
ment of  an  earlier  period.  The  more  orderly  social  life  and  the 
increasing  command  over  nature  destroyed  its  magical  power; 
and  its  moral  power — its  possession  of  ideals  upon  which  society 
depended  for  its  very  life — was  destroyed  by  the  exhaustion  of 
those  ideals  ^nd  the  tendency  to  make  either  the  political  organi- 
zation or  possessive  wealth  the  end  of  social  activity.  In  propor- 
tion as  men  are  interested  in  the  supernatural,  the  power  of  the 
Church  is  great.  The  control  of  the  physical  and  social  environ- 
ment means  a  lessening  of  belief  in  the  supernatural.  The  interest 
in  the  future  life  is  never  entirely  lost,  but  it  is  largely  suspended 
when  present   activities  and  earthly  ends  become  of  pressing 

I  Windelband,  op.  cit.,  328. 
»  Gierke,  op.  cit.,  39,  40. 

3  For  his  tract  on  "Money,"  vide  Cunningham,  Growth  of  English  Commerce 
and  Industry,  I,  Appendix. 


298  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

importance.  The  breakdown  of  Church  authority  was  caused 
by  the  greater  control  of  nature,  the  more  orderly  social  condi- 
tions, and  the  absorbing  interest  which  came  to  be  taken  in  earthly 
pursuits.  Neither  the  Reformation  nor  the  Counter-Reforma- 
tion could  restore  that  authority,  though,  of  course,  the  various 
religious  organizations  which  have  existed  since  that  period  have 
had  an  important  place  in  the  world,  both  in  satisfying  the  remain- 
ing interest  in  the  future  world  and  in  stimulating  the  moral 
motives  of  men. 

THE  BEGINNINGS  OF  MODERN  THOUGHT 

One  of  the  chief  causes  of  the  revolt  against  ecclesiastical 
authority  was  the  new  method  of  thought  which  was  necessitated 
by  the  changed  social  conditions.  A  phase  of  this  new  thought 
has  already  been  discussed  as  a  part  of  the  changed  view  of  the 
Church;  but  philosophy  was  now  wider  than  theology,  and  much 
that  had  to  do  with  social  development  had  nothing  to  do  with 
religious  and  ecclesiastical  problems.  The  human  mind,  having 
been  stimulated  to  activity  by  the  Church,  and  then  emancipated 
from  ecclesiastical  authority,  naturally  cast  about  for  some  means 
by  which  to  express  the  expanding  consciousness.  This  was  found 
in.  classical  literature  which  was  first  made  available  through 
the  Arabians  and  the  discoveries  in  Italy  and  later  through  the 
dispersion  of  Byzantine  scholars  by  the  conquests  of  the  Turks. 
This  movement  was  due  to  the  passionate,  though  vague,  search 
for  novelty  which  the  oldest  products  of  human  thought  here 
chanced  to  satisfy;  to  the  appeal  which  Greek  literature  could 
make  to  minds  already  stimulated  to  seek  the  beautiful  by  the 
developments  of  a  rich  civilization;  to  the  necessities  of  municipal 
reconstruction  in  Italy  which  aroused  an  interest  in  Roman  litera- 
ture ;  and  to  the  sanctions  furnished  by  this  literature  for  political 
and  individualistic  developments  and  for  skepticism  in  religion. 
It  was  easier  to  find  in  the  classical  literature  an  objectification 
of  the  new  spirit,  than  to  work  out  an  entirely  original  expression 
of  that  spirit.  So,  the  Renaissance  was  charaterized  by  a  return 
to  the  past  as  an  advance  upon  the  present. 


THE  END  OF  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  299 

In  Italy  an  indifFerentism  prevailed  as  regards  religion,  while 
the  formal  religious  rites  were  stiU  tolerated;  but  in  Germany, 
where  the  religious  sentiment  was  still  strong,  and  in  a  somewhat 
less  intense  form  in  the  other  northern  countries,  a  reformation 
of  the  Church  was  attempted  by  a  return  to  earlier  traditions. 
The  doctrines  formulated  by  Aquinas,  to  which  the  Church  abso- 
lutely committed  itself  at  the  Council  of  Trent  (1563)  and  for 
the  defense  of  which  the  Society  of  Jesus  was  formed,  were 
set  aside  by  the  reformers  for  the  simpler  expression  of  the  relation 
of  the  individual  to  God  found  in  the  doctrines  of  Augustin,  or 
for  a  humanistic  theology  derived  from  a  blending  of  the  Jewish 
writings  and  the  Greek  philosophy.  As  the  men  of  the  Renais- 
sance fell  back  upon  Plato  or  Aristotle^  so  the  men  of  the  Refor- 
mafion  fell  back  upon  Augustin  or  a  humanistic  Christianity. 

In  every  instance  the  movement  represented  a  romantic  interest 
in  the  ancient — the  abandonment  of  mediaeval  forms  and  the 
return  to  Plato  and  Aristotle  in  philosophy  and  early  Christianity 
in  religion.  The  various  philosophical  and  religious  sects  thus 
formed  warred  among  themselves  almost  as  much  as  against  the 
Church  itself.  The  theological  development  was  arrested  by  the 
fixation  of  doctrine  by  national  churches;  and  secular  thought, 
becoming  surfeited  with  the  warfare  between  the  transmitted 
doctrines  of  the  past,  turned  to  the  cosmic  life  of  nature  for  new 
inspiration.^ 

The  continued  search  for  novelty,  coupled  with  the  interest 
in  the  physical  world  aroused  by  the  geographical  discoveries, 
led  to  the  study  of  nature;  and  the  results  attained  by  Kepler, 
Bruno,  Galileo,  and  later  by  Newton,  furnished  the  key  for  the 
opening  of  the  genuinely  modern  method  of  thought.  This  took 
place  most  fruitfully  in  England,  France,  and  the  Netherlands, 
Italy  having  been  smothered  by  the  Counter-Reformation,  Ger- 
many crippled  by  the  religious  wars,  and  Spain  brought  to  a 
permanent  intellectual  stagnation  by  a  religious  despotism.  This 
problem  of  method  was  attacked  by  Bacon,  Hobbes,  and  Des 
Cartes  in  the  earlier  years  of  the  seventeenth  century. 

»  Windelband,  op.  cit.,  348-66. 


300  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

The  new  method  consisted  essentially  in  a  procedure  from 
the  particular  to  the  universal,  thus  reversing  that  of  the  whole 
Middle  Ages.  It  was  a  true  reflection  of  the  changed  social 
conditions.  The  Humanistic  movement  in  philosophy  and  the 
Reformation  in  religion  had  been  caused  by  the  exhaustion  of  the 
old  universals;  but  the  men  of  that  period  had  not  come  to  the 
point  of  completely  revolutionizing  their  method.  Dissatisfied 
with  the  mediaeval  tradition,  they  simply  attempted  to  find  more 
adequate  ideals  in  still  more  ancient  traditions.  It  was  still  felt 
that  the  best  lay  behind  them.  The  seventeenth  century,  how- 
ever, was  marked  by  a  radical  change  of  method,  and  men  began 
to  proceed  from  actual  facts  to  new  generalizations.  Bacon  set 
his  Novum  organon  over  against  the  Aristotelian  Organon,  pro- 
posing an  inductive  method  and  pointing  out  the  illusions  (idola) 
to  which  adherence  to  various  traditions  and  presuppositions 
subjects  men.  But  Bacon  was  unable  to  state  his  method  in 
detail,  and  was  more  or  less  encumbered  by  old  habits  of  thought. 
On  this  account,  the  practical  application  which  he  attempted  to 
give  his  philosophy — to  secure  dominion  over  the  forces  of  nature 
for  man* — became  a  mere  fanciful  portrayal  of  the  wonders  for 
which  the  excitement  of  the  times  led  all  men  to  hope. 

Des  Cartes  was  more  successful  in  breaking  away  from  the 
trammels  of  the  past.    He  was 

delighted  with  mathematics  on  account  of  the  certainty  and  evidence  of  their 
demonstrations,  and  from  the  study  of  this  branch  of  knowledge  he  passed  to 
the  consideration  of  general  philosophical  method.  He  demanded  not  only 
the  induction  of  Bacon,  but  that  the  induction  "should  lead  to  a  single  prin- 
ciple of  highest  and  absolute  certainty,  from  which  afterward,  by  the  method 
of  composition,  the  whole  compass  of  experience  must  find  its  explanation, 
....  The  first  task  of  philosophy  is  analytic,  the  second  synthetic." 

His  aim  was  to  obtain  a  system  of  self-evident  axioms  and  postu- 
lates from  which  to  determine  the  validity  of  particulars;  but 
these  axioms  were  not  to  be  derived  from  universals,  as  had  been 

^  His  Instauratio  magna  bore  the  sub-title  De  regno  hominis;  and  his  Nova 
Atlantis  was  a  Utopia  in  which  human  life  should  be  completely  transformed  by 
inventions  and  discoveries. 

"  Windelband,  op.  cit.,  390. 


THE  END  OF  THE  MTODLE  AGES  301 

the  case  in  the  past :  the  universals  were  cast  aside,  and  the  appeal 
was  made  to  self-consciousness  as  a  criterion  for  the  particular — 
not  to  the  universal  consciousness,  but  to  the  consciousness  of 
the  individual.  Every  particular  is  true  which  is  as  clear  and  as 
immediate  as  the  self-consciousness  of  the  individual.  The  old 
world  is  done  away,  and  that  which  is  given  in  the  new  world 
to  be  is  the  center  of  individual  consciousness.^  Des  Cartes' 
interest  was  purely  theoretical,  and  he  never  went  so  far  as  to 
seek  to  apply  his  method  to  nature  or  to  society;  nevertheless, 
he  truly  represented  the  spirit  of  the  age  in  throwing  ofiF  allegiance 
to  tradition  and  in  starting  with  the  individual. 

Hobbes,  on  the  other  hand,  was  so  pressed  upon  by  the  stirring 
political  events  of  his  time  that  he  was  obhged  to  apply  hismethod 
at  once  to  the  consideration  of  political  problems — indeed,  he 
had  to  workout  his  method  in  its  very  application.  He  was 
largely  influenced  by  Bacon  and  his  younger  contemporary, 
Des  Cartes,  and  even  more  directly  by  the  physical  theories  of 
Galileo.  He  said  he  intended  to  deal,  first,  with  physical  nature, 
then  with  man,  and  then  with  the  State;  but  he  was  driven  to 
the  third  first,  and  was  never  able  to  return  to  the  other  two. 
He  found  the  center  of  his  social  theory  in  the  active  individual. 
But  this  individual  was  a  reacting  individual  and  did  not  exist 
without  the  State.  The  State,  however,  was  formed  by  the  volun- 
tary agreement  of  individuals  who  realized  the  advantages  of 
co-operation.  Absolute  authority  should  be  vested  in  the  king  as 
an  impartial  umpire;  but  this  authority  had  no  divine  sanction; 
it  was  simply  vested  in  one  man  by  the  agreement  of  self-seeking 
people  who  felt  the  need  of  external  regulation.  The  agreement 
having  been  made  to  vest  the  authority  in  a  single  family,  the  king 
is  justified  in  using  that  authority  to  prevent  the  breaking  of  the 

^  "  I  abandoned  literary  pursuits  altogether,  ....  being  resolved  to  seek 
no  other  knowledge  than  that  which  I  was  able  to  find  within  myself  or  in  the 

great  book  of  the  world As  for  all  the  opinions  which  I  had  accepted  up 

to  that  time,  I  was  persuaded  that  I  could  do  no  better  than  to  get  rid  of  them  at 
once,  in  order  to  replace  them  afterward  with  better  ones,  or  perhaps  with  the 

same,  if  I  should  succeed  in  making  them  square  with  reason The  first 

rule  was  never  to  receive  anything  as  a  truth  which  I  did  not  clearly  know  to  be 
such. " — Discourse  upon  Method. 


302  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

contract,  even  though  a  revolt  is  caused  by  his  own  misgovern- 
ment.  The  Church  is  simply  a  part  of  the  external  machinery 
of  authority.  Hobbes  thus  came  as  near  as  possible  to  a  justifi- 
cation of  the  claims  of  the  Stuarts,  but  still  held  to  the  primary 
importance  of  the  individual  from  whom  all  authority  proceeds. 
The  value  was  not  in  the  whole,  but  in  the  individual. 

Hobbes'  interest,  however,  was  not  democratic :  it  was  political 
rather  than  social.  The  phenomena  of  greatest  importance  at  the 
time  were  the  national  state  and  the  relations  betweeen  states. 
The  organization  of  the  government  and  the  establishment  of 
international  comity  could  not  be  explained  or  sanctioned  on 
the  basis  of  the  old  universals.  The  method  which  had  to  be 
employed  was  that  of  proceeding  from  the  particular  to  the  uni- 
versal. It  was  only  on  the  basis  of  the  former  that  the  latter  could 
be  explained.  The  democratic  movement  was  advancing  steadily 
through  all  this  period,  but  it  had  not  gained  sufficient  headway 
to  compel  attention  to  the  rights  of  the  individual  as  such.  The 
men  of  the  later  Renaissance,  so  far  as  they  went  beyond  an 
elaboration  of  method  and  a  consideration  of  physical  nature,  were 
interested  above  all  else  in  the  political  situation.  It  remained 
for  the  men  of  the  Enlightenment  to  consider  the  welfare  of  the 
individual  as  such;  and  when  they  did,  they  used  the  same 
general  method  which  their  predecessors  employed.  During  all 
this  time,  theology  had  to  be  left  as  it  was,  or  ignored  altogether. 
Its  reconstruction,  as  well  as  the  development  of  a  general  social 
philosophy,  had  to  be  left  until  the  consideration  of  the  particular 
facts  of  the  physical  and  biological  sciences  had  proceeded  so  far 
as  to  warrant  generalizations  which  could  be  used  in  cosmic  and 
social  philosophy.  This  did  not  take  place  until  the  nineteenth 
century,  and  then  not  in  a  thoroughgoing  way  until  Darwin  had 
made  his  contribution. 

POLITICAL  PHILOSOPHY 

The  reason  for  the  interest  in  political  phenomena  has  already 
been  stated.  The  authority  of  the  Church  had  passed  away. 
The   State  could  accept  neither  the  position  of  subordination 


THE  END  OF  THE  MIDDLE  AGES         303 

assigned  to  it  by  Aquinas,  nor  that  of  co-ordination  suggested  by 
Dante.  It  had  become  the  only  authority.  But  its  authority, 
in  spite  of  the  theories  of  absolutism  held  by  many  great  states- 
men, was  an  authority  growing  out  of  the  necessities  of  industrial 
life  and  maintained  for  the  preservation  and  furtherance  of  the 
interests  of  all  classes  of  citizens.  The  sovereign  power  was 
essentially  a  police  power.  Sometimes  it  was  also  a  directing 
power.  Again,  as  the  authority  of  the  Church  could  no  longer 
control  the  social  activities  in  detail,  neither  could  it  hold  together 
the  larger  groups  into  which  society  was  divided.  But  these 
groups  were  parts  of  one  whole,  and  had  to  be  held  together  in 
some  fashion  by  other  bonds.  These  were  found  in  International 
Law.  The  explanation  of  these  two  phenomena,  the  State  and 
International  Law,  was  the  problem  of  philosophy  throughout 
the  seventeenth  and  earlier  eighteenth  centuries. 

The  conception  of  the  State. — The  general  position  of  Hobbes 
was  practically  that  of  his  successors,  and  in  a  measure  of  the 
spokesman  for  the  more  precocious  Italian  political  conscious- 
ness, Macchiavelli.  "The  State  was  conceived,  not  teleologi- 
cally,  but  in  a  purely  naturalistic  fashion  as  a  product  of  needs 
and  interests."^  " 

Egoism  became  the  principle  of  all  practical  philosophy;  for  if  the  indi- 
vidual's instinct  toward  self-preservation  was  to  be  restricted  and  corrected 
by  the  command  of  the  State,  yet  this  State  itself  was  regarded  as  the  most 
ingenious  and  perfect  of  all  contrivances  which  egoism  had  hit  upon  to  attain 
and  secure  its  satisfaction.  The  siate^jg^aiure,  in  which  the  egoism  of  each 
stands  originally  opposed  to  the  egoism  of  every  other,  is  a  war  of  all  against 
all:  to  escape  this  the  State  was  founded  as  a  contract  for  the  mutual  warrant 
of  self-preservation.  The  social  need  is  not  original;  it  only  results  neces- 
sarily as  the  most  efficient  and  certain  means  for  the  satisfaction  of  egoism." 

The  desired  results  might  be  best  secured  by  the  absolute  mon- 
archy, according  to  the  Englishman  Hobbes  and  the  Frenchman 
Bodin,  or  by  an  aristocratic  republic,  according  to  the  Dutchmen 
Spinoza  and  Grotius.  A  democracy  was  not  yet  considered 
practicable  or  desirable;     for  the  democratic  tendency  inherent 

I  Windelband,  op.  cit.,  426. 
» Ibid.,  434. 


304  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

in  the  commercial  development  had  to  be  subordinate  to  political 
ends.  The  government  that  could  carry  forward  the  interests 
for  which  it  was  conceived  to  exist  had  to  be  strong.  Only  after 
relative  stabiUty  was  secured  through  the  establishment  of  such 
governments  could  men  go  to  the  full  length  of  the  implications  of 
the  contract  theory  and  advocate  democracy,  or  the  carrying- 
forward  of  the  interests  of  the  individual  regardless  of  govern- 
ment. The  theory  of  the  Revolution,  though  implied  in  the 
fundamental  conceptions  of  all  the  social  philosophy  of  the  time, 
was  given  definite  expression  only  under  special  conditions,  as 
by  Milton  (1651)^  and  Algernon  Sidney  (1683),'  when  the 
misrule  of  the  sovereign  made  men  believe  that  the  governmental 
contract  should  be  liable  to  dissolution. 

The  contractual  theory  of  government  was  not  original  with 
Hobbes.  As  already  stated,  Occam  and  Marsilius  and  other 
thinkers  of  the  early  Renaissance  had  put  forward  the  same  view. 
The  experience  of  corporations,  urban,  ecclesiastical,  and  eco- 
nomic had  given  a  suggestion  of  the  method  by  which  the  larger 
political  organization  had  come  into  being.  Indeed,  before  the 
National  State  came  to  play  so  important  a  part,  the  doctrine  of 
popular  sovereignty  received  an  emphasis  which  was  lacking  in 
the  time  of  Hobbes.^  These  theories  could  not  have  been 
unknown  to  the  later  writers;  but  these  had  a  phenomenon  to 
explain  and  an  institution  to  justify  with  which  their  predecessors 
were  familiar,  namely,  the  National  State.  Their  individualistic 
view  made  it  necessary  to  assume  an  original  voluntary  agreement 
and  the  revolutions  in  England  and  frequent  acts  of  agreement 
between  rulers  and  subjects  gave  them  added  proofs  of  the  con- 
tractual nature  of  the  political  bond.  Their  special  point  was 
the  indissoluble  character  of  the  contract  when  once  made;  and 
this  assumption  seemed  necessary  to  justify  a  government  that 
could  be  sufficiently  strong  and  stable  to  meet  the  needs  of  their 
time.     After  the  nationalistic  movement  had  settled  the  ques- 

I  Defensio  pro  populo  Anglicano. 
'  Discourses  of  Government. 
3  Cf.  Gierke,  op.  cit.,  37-61. 


THE  END  OF  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  305 

tions  then  prominent,  men  could  go  back  to  the  earher,  nominal- 
istic  conceptions  of  popular  sovereignty,  and,  re-enforcing  these 
with  the  individualistic  psychology  of  Hobbes,  could  begin  a 
struggle  for  the  rights  of  the  individual. 

The  Law  0}  Nations. — Proceeding  from  the  same  assump- 
tions from  which  the  doctrine  of  sovereignty  had  been  developed, 
a  philosophy  of  law  also  was  worked  out.  The  practical  applica- 
tion of  this  was  found  chiefly  in  the  international  sphere.  As 
the  social  conditions  had  led  to  the  development  of  the  National 
State,  so  they  made  necessary  some  kind  of  an  understanding  that 
would  prevent  constant  warfare  between  states.  The  beginnings 
of  the  important  substitute  for  the  old  feeling  of  community  which 
had  been  sustained  by  the  Church  and  the  Empire  were  found 
in  the  blending  of  the  pacificatory  measures  of  the  Church,  the 
maritime  practices  of  the  Mediterranean  cities,  and  the  Roman 
Law. 

From  the  middle  of  the  eleventh  century,  the  "Truce  of  God" 
was  more  or  less  well  observed;  notably  so  in  Aquitaine  and 
Languedoc.  This  peace  was  not  the  peace  of  the  towns,  though 
the  burghers  were  especially  favorable  to  it  because  of  their 
interests  in  the  open  country  where  the  town  peace  did  not  hold.* 
From  the  prohibition  of  private  war,  it  was  a  short  step  to  the 
prohibition  of  other  violent  customs,  such  as  the  rights  of  wreckage, 
the  pillaging  of  merchants  and  sailors,  etc.  The  councils  of 
Clermont  (1130)  and  Rheims  (1131)  anathematized  those  who 
should  commit  such  offenses.'  In  1168  Alexander  II  reproached 
the  Genoese  for  acts  of  piracy  on  the  commerce  of  Montpellier.^ 
The  fact  that  these  steps  were  taken  is  an  indication  that  com- 
merce was  reviving.  As  soon  as  this  revival  had  gained  headway, 
there  grew  up  a  body  of  customs  and  common  traditions  which 
finally  became  an  international  code  of  navigation.  Undoubtedly 
the  tradition  of  the  ancient  maritime  code,  the  Law  of  the  Rho- 
dians,  which  had  been  accepted  by  the  Roman  Empire,  served 

^  Pirenne,  Revue  historique,  LVII,  294. 
a  Pigeonneau,  op.  cii.,  I,  120,  121. 
3  Ibid.,  163. 


3o6  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

as  the  model  for  the  codes  of  the  principal  ports  of  the  Mediterra- 
nean, especially  of  Amalj5,  whose  code  served  as  the  basis  of  later 
maritime  jurisprudence ;  ^  yet  the  influence  of  the  Christian  spirit 
and  of  the  efforts  of  the  Church  to  modify  warfare  and  vio- 
lence is  seen  in  all  of  these  laws.  The  completion  of  the  Roles 
d'OlSron  took  place  in  the  twelfth  century,  when  the  interest  in 
Roman  Law  likewise  inspired  the  Canon  Law  and  the  beginnings 
of  the  municipal  codes.  This  code  was  given  its  final  form  in 
Aquitaine,  whence  it  passed  into  Bretagne,  Normandy,  and  later 
into  England,  the  Netherlands,  and  the  Baltic  countries.  The 
other  important  maritime  code,  the  Consolato  del  Mare,  was  com- 
piled at  Barcelona  a  century  or  more  later  from  the  statutes  of 
the  maritime  cities  of  Italy,  Spain,  and  southern  France,  and 
became  current  in  the  Mediterranean  ports.  The  essential  char- 
acteristics of  these  two  codes  were  identical.  They  regulated 
the  relations  of  shipowners,  undertakers,  pilots,  and  sailors,  rights 
of  marque  and  reprisal,  practices  in  case  of  accidents  or  pressing 
danger,  and  practically  suppressed  rights  of  wreckage  and  other 
barbarous  customs.^ 

These  practical  regulations,  strengthened  by  rehgious  sanc- 
tions and  supported  by  Roman  precedents,  were  fairly  adequate 
so  long  as  mediaeval  institutions  survived  and  commerce  was 
carried  on  by  the  smaller  commercial  communities;  but  when 
the  new  world  was  opened  up  and  the  great  nations  began  to 
struggle  for  supremacy,  piracy  and  war  needed  new  definitions, 
and  new  sanctions  had  to  be  found  for  a  modus  vivendi  among 
civilized  nations.  The  foundations  of  modern  International  Law 
were  laid  by  Hugo  Grotius  in  1609.  The  practical  stimulus 
for  his  work  was  the  fact  that  the  first  great  colonial  powers, 
Spain  and  Portugal,  had  secured  the  papal  sanction  for  a  parti- 
tion of  the  whole  oceanic  world  between  them  as  their  exclusive 
property.  Against  this  ecclesiastical  limitation,  the  doctrine  of 
Mare  Liherum,  based  upon  the  supposed  law  of  nature,  was  put 
forward  as  a  justification  for  the  appropriation  by  the  Dutch  of 

'  Op.  cit.,  161,  162. 

»  Ibid.,  162-64;    Walker,  Science  of  International  Law,  395. 


THE  END  OF  THE  MIDDLE  AGES         307 

these  colonial  possessions  of  Spain  and  Portugal.  The  doctrine 
had  to  be  modified  to  meet  the  requirements  of  England  and 
Denmark,  which  could  not  be  expected  to  relinquish  the  exclusive 
control  of  their  contiguous  waters;  but  the  general  principle  of 
a  free  open  sea  soon  gained  general  currency.  Another  stimulus 
to  Grotius  was  the  barbarism  of  the  Thirty  Years'  War,  which 
witnessed  a  degeneration  from  the  standards  of  an  earlier  age. 
It  is  true  that  the  worst  horrors  of  that  war  had  not  taken  place 
when  his  great  work,  De  Jure  Belli  ac  Pads,  was  given  to  the  world 
(1625);  but  the  practices  of  the  times  had  become  sufficiently 
revolting  to  lead  him  to  write: 

I  saw  prevailing  throughout  the  Christian  world  a  license  in  making  war 
of  which  even  barbarous  nations  would  have  been  ashamed;  recourse  being 
had  to  arms  for  slight  reasons  or  no  reason;  and  when  arms  were  once  taken 
up,  all  reverence  for  divine  and  human  law  was  thrown  away,  just  as  if  men 
were  henceforth  authorized  to  commit  all  crimes  without  restraint.' 

This  degeneration,  caused  by  the  dissolution  of  the  old  ecclesi- 
astical bonds,  riiade  all  thoughtful  men  anxious  to  find  a  better 
way;  and  it  was  not  surprising  that  a  Dutchman  should  be 
foremost  in  seeking  it. 

The  real  sanction  of  a  Law  of  Nations  was  the  fact  that  the 
various  nations  formed  a  single  moral  community.  The  con- 
sciousness of  this  had  been  developed  during  the  Middle  Ages. 
Now,  however,  when  the  ecclesiastical  sanction  could  no  longer 
be  acknowledged  and  an  organic  conception  could  not  yet  be 
attained,  it  seemed  that  the  community  was  justified  only  because 
of  the  immediate  advantages  derived  from  it;  just  as  the  political 
State  was  justified  by  the  selfish  advantages  secured  by  it  to 
individuals.  The  Law  of  Nations,  like  the  doctrine  of  the  State, 
was  based  upon  the  lex  naturalis,  that  is,  the  law  of  human  nature. 
It  was  upon  the  interests  of  individuals  co-ordinated  by  agreement 
that  the  State  was  based ;  so  it  was  upon  the  interests  of  individu- 
als and  of  individual  nations  harmonized  by  definitive  treaty, 
or  the  commonly  accepted  maxims  supposed  to  be  derived  from 

*  Prolegomena,  §  28,  quoted  by  Lawrence,  The  Principles  of  International 
Law,  42. 


3o8  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

nature,  that  a  community  of  nations  was  to  be  established.  The 
social  structure  must  be  based  upon  social  needs;  but  society 
itself  had  no  life  of  its  own.  The  old  universals  having  been 
exhausted,  the  stimulus  to  social  activity  was  naturally  found 
wholly  in  the  particulars;  but  there  were  no  longer  any  great 
unifying  ideals  which  could  control  the  particulars.  The  more 
immediate  political  and  economic  ends  took  the  place  of  these 
in  part,  and  established  conceptions  set  limits  beyond  which 
mutual  aggressions  should  not  go ;  but  the  friction  was  necessarily 
great  during  the  time  when  there  were  neither  old  habits  to  guide 
nor  ruling  ideals  to  control.  This  lack  of  system  and  harmony 
in  the  new  conceptions  and  in  the  new  social  order  could  not 
occasion  the  resuscitation  of  the  Church.  That  institution  had 
forever  lost  its  authoritative  position  in  society.  So  it  was  upon 
contract  and  the  self-evident  maxims  of  Natural  Law  that  Grotius 
and  his  followers  had  to  depend  for  a  bond  of  union  among  the 
nations  of  Christendom.  "The  principles  of  Natural  Law," 
wrote  the  great  jurist,  "if  you  attend  to  them  rightly,  are  of 
themselves  patent  and  evident,  almost  in  the  same  way  as  things 
which  are  perceived  by  the  external  senses."^  It  was  because 
of  the  wide  acceptance  of  this  view  that  the  rules  proposed  by 
Grotius  were  at  once  adopted  by  the  civilized  world.  In  the 
Peace  of  Westphalia  its  leading  principles  were  recognized  and 
applied,  and  it  soon  found  its  way  into  the  universities.  To  deny 
its  sanctions  was  to  do  that  which  was  unnatural.  Of  course, 
the  force  of  the  proposed  code  was  due  to  the  fact  that  it  was 
based  on  principles  which  the  Christian  consciousness  had 
absorbed.  To  this  common  consciousness  Grotius  could  appeal, 
and  when  he  brought  together  precedent  after  precedent  drawn 
from  sacred  and  profane  history,  and  with  the  aid  of  his  legal 
knowledege  worked  these  out  in  an  intelligible  system,  the  argu- 
ment was  irresistible.  But  the  wide  prevalence  of  the  foolish 
theories  about  the  law  of  nature  enabled  him  to  clothe  his  new 
system  with  all  the  authority  of  admitted  theory.' 

»  Prolegomena,  §  39,  quoted  by  Lawrence,  op.  cU.,  40. 
»  Lawrence,  op.  cit.,  4.^-47. 


THE  END  OF  THE  Mn)DLE  AGES  309 

THE  DEMOCRATIC  MOVEMENT 

The  thought-movement  which  we  have  just  traced  was  the 
result  of  an  effort  to  understand  and  justify  the  political  develop- 
ment that  was  going  on.  Basing  everything  upon  an  individu- 
alistic conception,  it  was  nevertheless  not  democratic.  Under 
the  influence  of  the  stirring  poHtical  events  of  the  times,  men's 
minds  were  directed  to  the  explanation  of  the  larger  movements 
which  necessarily  included  all  individual  interests;  and  yet  the 
change  of  the  stimulus  to  social  activity  from  the  whole  to  the 
particular  made  it  necessary  that  all  explanations  should  be  based 
upon  an  implied  individualism.  This  having  been  taken  as  the 
key  to  the  new  systems,  it  would  inevitably  follow  that  attention 
should  be  directed,  sooner  or  later,  to  the  individualistic  presup- 
positions themselves.  This  was  what  happened  in  the  philosophy 
of  the  Enlightenment, 

There  were  several  reasons  for  this  transition  from  political 
to  what  may  be  called  social  philosophy.  The  consolidation  of 
the  nations  under  relatively  stable  governments,  the  establish- 
ment of  a  "balance  of  power"  that  could  not  be  easily  disturbed, 
and  the  recognition  of  certain  limitations  to  international  rival- 
ries both  in  war  and  in  peace,  withdrew  political  problems  from 
the  active  interest  of  the  world.  The  stability  of  the  State  made  it 
possible  for  men  to  think  of  the  reform  of  the  State  in  such  a  way 
as  to  give  the  individual  greater  freedom.  The  intermediate 
groups  between  the  State  and  the  individual  had  been  obliterated 
by  the  development  of  the  former  and  by  the  economic  changes 
following  the  fall  of  the  cities.  The  State  had  been  obliged  to 
suppress  the  gilds  and  corporations  which  had  once  controlled 
the  activities  of  the  individual,  and  the  development  of  the  national 
economy  prevented  the  rise  of  new  groups.  The  use  of  the  forms 
of  the  old  organizations  for  the  political  control  of  industry,  as 
under  Elizabeth  in  England  and  Louis  XIV  in  France,  was  in 
no  sense  a  revival  of  the  gilds.  The  latter  had  always  been  social- 
economic  institutions  having  economic  ends,  to  attain  which 
they  might  sometimes  employ  political  means.  The  later,  gal- 
vanized gilds  were  maintained  for  political  ends  to  which  the 


310  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

industrial  activity  was  frequently  necessary.  Nor  was  a  state 
church  to  be  considered  as  serving  the  same  purpose  as  had  pre- 
viously been  served  by  the  Church.  These  later  institutions  were 
designed  to  control  the  religious  life  of  the  nation  in  the  interest 
of  national  policy.  The  manor  had  long  since  passed  away, 
except  in  remote  agricultural  regions ;  and  both  village  and  family 
had  ceased  to  hold  the  individual.  Some  measure  of  self-govern- 
ment was  left  to  some  of  the  towns;  but  it  was  strictly  regulated 
by  the  central  power,  and  was  limited  to  minor  local  affairs.  The 
orders  of  nobility  had  been  displaced  by  courtiers  who  were 
creatures  of  the  ruler.  Thus  the  very  success  of  the  State  had 
swept  away  all  that  bound  the  individual  save  the  State  itself. 
However  supreme  the  State  might  thus  make  itself,  it  was  pre- 
paring the  way  for  a  struggle  in  which  the  individual  would  con- 
tend for  the  delimitation  of  the  province  which  the  State  should 
occupy.^ 

The  breakdown  of  intermediate  groups  brought  to  greater 
prominence  ihe  individuality  which  had  been  developing  for 
centuries  and  which  had  become  the  really  important  fact  of 
social  life  since  the  rebirth  of  commerce.  Serfdom  had  disap- 
peared except  in  a  few  backward  districts,  and  the  necessities  of 
private  initiative  had  resulted  in  the  development  of  a  great  body 
of  self-reliant  individuals  engaged  in  the  essential  activities 
of  social  life.  The  gilds  had  taken  the  place  of  the  manors  in 
mediating  between  these  individuals  and  society;  consequently 
the  consciousness  of  the  social  values  of  the  actions  of  the  individual 
was  not  present  with  the  masses  of  the  producers.  But  such  a 
consciousness  became  highly  developed  in  the  men  whose  duties 
gave  them  positions  of  leadership  or  cut  them  loose  from  estab- 
lished conditions.  This  sense  of  individuality  was  greatly  extended 
by  the  rapid  changes  in  industry  and  the  opportunities  for  adven- 
ture opened  up  by  the  geographical  discoveries.  The  enlarge- 
ment of  industries  created  a  class  of  workmen — not  yet  numerous, 
but  destined  to  increase — who  could  never  become  masters  nor 
have  a  voice  in  the  determination  of  craft  policies,  but  who  could 

»  Cf.  Gierke,  op.  cU.,  87,  88,  99,  100. 


THE  END  OF  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  311 

no  longer  be  treated  as  the  serfs  or  servants  of  masters  and  rulers. 
During  the  period  of  the  disintegration  of  the  gilds,  many  work- 
men were  detached  from  their  communities  and  liberated  from 
the  last  vestiges  of  personal  control  by  industrial  institutions. 
As  the  agricultural  serfs  had  become  gild-brethren,  so  now  the 
artisans  became  free  individuals  when  the  changes  in  industry 
made  it  impossible  for  mediaeval  institutions  longer  to  hold  them. 
This  class  became  more  and  more  numerous  until,  finally,  the 
Industrial  Revolution  completely  shattered  the  remnants  of  the 
old  system. 

This  separation  of  the  individual  from  the  institution  and  the 
development  of  conscious  individuality  was  furthered  by  the 
voyages  of  discovery  and  adventure,  and  the  settlement  of  new 
countries.  The  men  who  engaged  in  these  enterprises,  even 
when  they  went  to  the  colonies  as  indentured  servants,  were 
necessarily  thrown  on  their  own  resources  to  such  an  extent  that 
their  self-reliance  and  individuality  were  heightened.  An  inci- 
dental, but  important,  result  of  the  discoveries  was  the  enormous 
inflation  of  the  currency  of  all  Europe  by  the  importation  of  the 
precious  metals.  This  inflation  bore  upon  the  development  of 
conscious  individuality  by  breaking  down  many  of  the  social 
ranks  and  by  scattering  men  as  wage-earners.  Prices  were  raised 
to  the  advantage  of  the  agricultural  laborer  and  ultimately  to  that 
of  the  artisan,  but  to  the  ruin  of  many  of  those  who  depended 
upon  fixed  money  revenues.  In  short,  the  whole  tendency  of  the 
times  was  toward  the  destruction  of  status,  although  that  con- 
summation was  not  reached  until  the  end  of  the  eighteenth  century. 

The  Reformation,  caused  by  the  growing  individuality,  like- 
wise led  to  an  increased  emphasis  of  the  individual.  When  the 
reformers  reacted  against  the  Church,  they  naturally  tended  to 
place  the  individual  over  against  the  institution.  Before  the 
reformed  churches  became  state  institutions,  the  only  hope  of 
their  leaders  lay  in  their  appeal  to  the  individual.  The  value 
of  the  individual  had  been  one  of  the  most  important  truths  pro- 
claimed by  the  Church;  but  this  appreciation  of  the  individual 
having  been  possible  only  in  emotional  terms,  and  the  practical 


312  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

importance  of  the  work  of  absorbing  the  ideals  of  Christendom 
having  been  so  great,  the  authority  of  the  institution  and  the  sacred- 
ness  of  the  social  order  for  which  it  stood  had  come  to  occupy  the 
whole  attention  of  the  ecclesiastical  leaders.  After  slavery  had 
disappeared  and  serfdom  had  been  ameliorated,  the  Church  had 
ceased  to  pay  much  attention  to  the  earthly  condition  of  the  com- 
mon man;  or,  indeed,  regarded  the  betterment  of  that  condition 
with  alarm.  When  the  emotional  individuality  was  becoming 
one  of  activity,  the  tendency  to  look  back  to  the  more  ancient 
traditions  for  guidance  was  strengthened  by  the  discovery  of 
Augustin's  position  regarding  the  importance  of  the  individual. 
This  new  preaching  of  the  doctrines  of  Jesus  and  Paul  and 
Augustin,  the  appeal  to  the  individual  to  search  the  Scriptures  for 
himself,  to  come  into  immediate  relations  with  God,  discarding 
the  intervention  of  the  priest,  gave  an  impulse  to  the  development 
of  a  consciousness  of  individuality  which  the  deadening  influence 
of  the  state  churches  and  later  of  the  bigoted  denominations 
could  not  counteract.  The  earlier  reformers  laid  special  emphasis 
on  the  relation  of  the  individual  to  God.  Luther's  earlier  writings 
abound  in  his  expressions  of  belief  in  the  freedom  of  the  individual 
Christian  and  the  spiritual  equality  of  all  men.  When  he  beheld 
the  turmoil  into  which  the  Reformation  was  throwing  Germany, 
he  returned  to  the  principle  of  authority  and  laid  the  foundation 
for  the  doctrine  of  cuius  regio,  eius  religio.  But  even  after  the 
state  churches  were  established,  the  leaven  continued  to  work; 
and  the  persecution  of  non-conformists  even  tended  to  throw 
them  back  on  a  more  intense  individualism — an  individualism 
strong  in  the  consciousness  that  God  was  backing,  though  all  the 
public  powers  were  attempting  to  suppress  it.  In  England  non- 
conformity succeeded  in  bringing  about  the  moderate  political 
improvements  which  began  with  1688.  In  France  the  individ- 
ualistic tendencies  were  held  in  check  until  the  Revolution.  The 
petty  absolutism  of  Germany,  after  the  religious  wars,  and  the 
selfish  dynastic  policies  of  all  the  princely  rulers,  caused  men  to 
despair  of  public  morality  and  to  find  freedom  and  humanity 


THE  END  OF  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  313 

within  the  individual  breast;*  and  this  individualism,  appearing 
in  both  the  pietism  of  Spener  and  the  rationalism  of  Leibniz, 
had  an  influence  in  religion  and  philosophy  which  reached  far 
beyond  Germany. 

These  influences  were  important  as  bringing  to  self-conscious- 
ness the  individuahty  which  had  been  developing  ever  since  the 
rise  of  the  new  commerce.  The  individual  had  become  an  indi- 
vidual by  virtue  of  his  absorption  of  the  inherited  wealth  of  the 
past.  Having  absorbed  the  culture  of  the  past,  the  individual 
became  an  epitome  of  society  as  it  then  existed.  There  was  no 
longer  place  for  an  authority  which,  ranging  itself  on  the  side  of 
the  past,  should  enforce  conformity  to  its  standards.  The  ancient 
ideals  had  been  realized  in  essential  particulars.  When  he  became 
functionally  related  to  society,  the  individual  became  an  individual. 
But  for  reasons  already  stated,  the  full  consciousness  of  this  indi- 
viduality did  not  immediately  arise.  From  the  Renaissance  to 
the  Revolution  it  was  growing;  and  the  reality  of  individualism 
likewise  grew  as  the  masses  were  brought  more  directly  into  con- 
tact with  the  industrial  movement. 

The  self-consciousness  of  individuality  received  its  statement  in 
the  philosophy  of  the  Enlightenment.  In  this  the  individualism 
that  had  been  implied  in  the  earlier  thought  and  had  been  used 
as  a  sort  of  metaphysical  basis  for  the  explanation  of  social  pheno- 
mena now  became  an  active  principle.  The  individual  was  seen 
to  be  important  to  himself;  no  longer  as  mere  material  for 
political  organization.  Therefore,  problems  of  poHtical  and  ethical 
authority  were  no  longer  to  be  settled  from  the  standpoint  of 
political  ends.  All  institutions  came  to  be  regarded  as  the  pro- 
ducts of  the  activities  of  individuals,  having  no  value  save 
as  they  sen-^ed  individual  ends,  that  is,  contributed  to  individual 
happiness.  As  the  ecclesiastical  authority  had  been  overthrown 
by  the  men  of  the  Renaissance,  so  the  political  authority  which 
had  received  such  high  development  during  the  period  of  state 
formation  was  now  called  in  question  by  the  men  of  the  Enlight- 

I  Cf.  the  admirable  statement  of   the  condition  of    German  thought  after 
the  Thirty  Years'  War,  by  Francke,  Social  Forces  in  German  Literature,  chap.  vi. 


314  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

enment.  The  latter  did  not  see.that  the  growing  democracy  to 
which  they  were  giving  a  powerful  impetus  would  involve  a  poli- 
tical sovereignty  as  absolute  as  Hobbes  or  the  Stuarts  had  ever 
claimed  for  monarchy.* 

'  The  new  expression  of  individuality  found  its  first  clear  state- 
ment in  England,  both  because,  since  the  transition  from  agri- 
culture to  manufactures,  England  had  become  the  most  advanced 
of  the  industrial  nations,  and  had  made  the  advance  so  rapidly 
that  an  extraordinary  premium  was  bound  to  be  put  on  individual 
initiative;  and  because  England,  more  than  any  other  country, 
felt  the  reflex  influence  from  colonies  where  every  man  counted 
as  an  individual.  Locke  and  Shaftesbury  may  be  regarded  as 
the  initiators  of  this  movement  of  thought,  but  it  did  not  become 
powerful  for  social  development  until  it  passed  into  the  hands  of 
the  French  philosophers  and  was  transformed  into  an  instrument 
for  revolution  under  the  influence  of  a  reaction  against  the  extreme 
exercise  of  authority  in  economic  and  poUtical  affairs.  Leaving 
out  of  consideration  the  influence  of  such  men  as  Voltaire  and 
Diderot,  we  notice  the  specific  reaction  against  the  French  mal- 
administration of  justice  in  Montesquieu's  demand*  for  the 
apphcation  of  some  of  Locke's  constitutional  checks,  though  the 
demand  is  not  yet  made  for  the  substitution  of  popular  sovereignty 
for  absolutism;  and  against  the  extreme  French  mercantihsm 
in  the  pleas  of  Quesnay^  and  Turgot'*  for  economic  freedom, 
which  Adam  Smith  was  soon  to  state  in  such  impressive  form  as 
to  make  them  the  foundation  of  economic  science. 

In  all  of  these  discussions  the  standard  of  value  for  ethical 
functions  was  more  clearly  held  to  be  the  satisfaction  of  the 
impulses  of  the  individual.  ^  At  the  same  time,  judgment  was 
being  passed  on  the  social  institutions  according  to  their  abihty 
to  contribute  to  the  happiness  of  the  individual.     It  was  not  a 

»  Cf.  Willoughby,  The  Nature  of  the  State,  181-231 ;  Burgess,  op.  cit.,  I,  5 1-57. 
a  De  I' esprit  des  lots  (1748). 

3  Tableaux  economiques  (1758). 

4  Reflexions  sur  la  JornuUion  et  la  distribution  des  richesses  (1774). 
s  Cf.  Windelband,  op.  cit.,  501. 


[^  THE  END  OF  THE  MIDDLE  AGES         315 

long  step  from  this  position  to  the  theory  of  revolution  as  developed 
by  St.  Lambert,  Condorget,  and  Rousseau.  Man  was  still 
regarded_as^by  nature  essentially  egoistic,  as  Hobbes  had  held,  but 
he  was  also  regarded  as  having  feehngs  that  were  naturally  good 
and  social,  so  that  there  was  no  need  of  a  strong  government  to. 
force  him  to  keep  the  social  compact.  The  effect  of  the  historical 
development,  of  so-called  knowledge  and  refinement,  of  the 
artificial  social  structure,  had  been  but  to  make  man  untrue  to 
his  real  nature.  Therefore,  history  should  be  begun  anew,  in 
order  that  man  might  develop  from  his  simple  natural  condition 
to  that  perjectihilite  which  his  nature  indicated  to  be  his  true  end. 
Here  we  find  a  clear  statement  of  the  individuahsm  which  had 
been  impUcit  from  the  beginning  of  the  Renaissance.  The 
whole  social  value  was  in  the  individual.  Now  this  individualism 
could  not  have  been  given  the  statement  it  received  by  Rousseau, 
had  not  the  individual  come  into  such  organic  relations  with 
society  through  the  previous  development.  Rousseau's  individual 
was  a  social  individual.  He  was  capable  of  being  used  as  a  tre- 
mendous social  force  simply  because  he  was  not  in  a  state  of 
nature,  but  had  absorbed  all  the  values  of  society.  Rousseau, 
however,  did  not  reaUze  this,  nor  did  the  men  who  made  use  of 
his  doctrine.  The  important  thing  at  that  time  seemed  to  be  to 
sweep  away  the  institutions  of  authority  which  seemed  to  be  merely 
obstructions  to  the  free  working  of  the  individual.  The  regulation 
of  free  individuals  did  not  seem  to  the  men  of  the  eighteenth 
century  to  be  the  problem  which  the  nineteenth  century  has  found 
it  to  be.  They  were  probably  right  in  ignoring  it,  for  their  own 
problem  was  the  freeing  of  individuals  from  artificial  restraints. 
Therefore,  neither  the  absolute  monarchy  of  Hobbes  nor  the 
constitutional  monarchy  of  Locke  could  be  tolerated.  The 
individual  had  never  agreed  to  surrender  his  natural  rights.  He 
never  would  do  so.  The  government  was  but  a  servant.  If  it 
proved  unfaithful,  it  should  be  dismissed  and  replaced  by  another. 
The  sovereignty  should  be  vested  in  the  people:  there  was  to  be 
a  fraternity  of  equal  individuals,  and  in  pohtical  action  the  general 
will  was  to  prevail.     Here  was  a  virtual  contradiction  of  the  theory 


3l6  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

of  self-sufficient  individualism;  but  until  it  had  to  be  applied, 
after  the  triumph  of  democracy,  the  contradiction  did  not  appear. 
So  the  doctrine  as  stated  by  Rousseau  was  simply  a  tremendous 
intellectual  weapon  in  the  hands  of  the  radical  party. 

This  thought-movement  culminating  in  the  French  Revolution 
was  important  for  social  development,  not  merely  as  symptomatic 
of  the  coming  to  consciousness  of  the  individual,  but  because  the 
theory  was  immediately  applied  with  such  momentous  results, 
and  continued  to  be  the  ruHng  ideal  of  Christendom  for  a  long 
time,  indeed,  to  the  present  day  among  the  masses.  When 
individuaHsm  was  once  cLarly  stated,  the  democracy  at  once 
recognized  it  as  that  for  which  it  had  been  feeling,  and  immediately 
asserted  itself.  The  immediate  apphcation  of  the  doctrine  indi- 
cates the  force  of  the  individuaUsm  already  in  existence.  The 
democratic  triumph  marked  the  close  of  the  transition  period 
following  the  Middle  Ages. 

The  counter-revolutions  which  followed  the  French  Revolution 
did  not  materially  interfere  with  the  steady  advance  of  democ- 
racy. Their  only  significance  arose  from  the  fact  that  the 
Revolution  did  not  provide  for  the  co-ordination  of  the  activities 
of  the  individuals  whom  it  had  freed  from  the  last  vestiges  of 
authority.  Under  these  circumstances,  it  was  but  natural  that 
men  should  turn  from  the  new  system  that  did  not  work  to  an  old 
one  which  had  once  been  efficient;  and  only  later  discovered 
that  the  old  system  would  no  longer  work,  but  that  a  new  social 
order  must  be  developed  on  the  basis  of  democracy.  Whether 
the  Revolution  helped  or  hindered  the  democratic  movement,  we 
may  be  unable  definitely  to  determine;  but  that  the  movement 
itself  was  furthered  by  the  philosophy  which  was  at  the  same 
time  a  reflection  of  it,  can  scarcely  be  questioned.  The  individual 
was  not  only  freed,  but  was  made  conscious  of  his  freedom.  The 
eighteenth  century,  as  Mazzini  said,  made  good  the  right  of  the 
individual  to  be  an  end  in  himself.  The  coUectivistic  movement 
of  the  nineteenth  century,  the  seeds  of  which  we  haye  found  in 
Rousseau's  individualism,  has  been  based  entirely  upon  this 
outcome  of  the  previous  development. 


CHAPTER  VI 
SOCIAL  MOVEMENTS  OF  TODAY 

It  would  be  impossible  within  the  limits  of  a  work  like  this 
to  give  anything  Hke  a  detailed  account  of  the  complex  develop- 
ments of  the  nineteenth  century;  and,  indeed,  in  the  presence  of 
numerous  valuable  treatises  on  various  social  movements,  such  a 
work  would  be  unnecessary,  save  as  it  should  attempt  to  fill  in 
some  of  the  gaps  which  still  remain.  It  will  be  the  object  of  this 
chapter  to  present  no  more  than  a  general  view  of  these  most  com- 
plex movements  in  their  economic,  ethical,  and  pohtical  aspects, 
at  the  same  time  considering  the  pecuHar  problem  with  which  we 
have  dealt  throughout,  namely,  the  relation  of  the  particular  to 
the  universal,  of  the  organ  to  the  organism,  of  the  individual  to 
society ;  and  endeavoring  to  discover  whether  the  social  integration 
which  we  have  traced  still  proceeds,  or  whether  elements  of  dis- 
ruption and  decay  are  gaining  the  supremacy. 

Two  important  phenomena  are  typical  of  this  period,  namely, 
the  estabUshment  of  democracy  and  the  rise  of  modem  industry. 
Nearly  all,  perhaps  all,  other  social  problems  arise  out  of  these; 
and  these  are  so  intimately  related  to  each  other  that  they  may 
be  regarded  as  virtually  one.  At  the  close  of  the  last  chapter 
we  considered  the  development  of  the  consciousness  of  the  value 
of  the  individual,  culminating  in  the  theory  of  the  Revolution. 
This  meant  ultimately  pohtical  self-consciousness.  Having  at 
last  come  to  function  with  comparative  freedom  and  immediacy 
for  society,  the  masses,  now  that  they  had  become  conscious  of 
this  relation,  could  not  be  prevented  from  asserting  their  right 
to  take  a  hand  in  the  management  of  pohtical  affairs.  Where 
certain  classes  were  enjoying  privileges  without  performing  any 
social  service,  as  notably  in  France,  the  uprising  was  naturally 
more  violent  than  elsewhere;  but  everywhere,  as  the  masses 
came  to  realize  their  power,  their  encroachment  upon  the  pohtical 
rights  of  the  governing  classes  went  steadily  on.    Even  in  America 

317 


3i8  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

the  democratic  movement  broadened  after  independence  was 
assured  and  the  earlier  constitutional  problems  had  been  settled 
for  the  time/  The  French  Revolution  was  but  an  incident;  and 
the  reactionary  movements  Ukewise  could  be  of  but  momentary 
importance.  The  French  theorists,  some  of  them  even  belong- 
ing to  the  nobiUty,  precipitated  the  Revolution;  and  the  Amer- 
ican Revolution  had  been  inspired  and  pushed  to  a  successful 
consummation  by  a  comparatively  small  intellectual  aristocracy 
which  proclaimed  under  favorable  conditions  the  same  theories 
regarding  the  rights  of  man  that  were  soon  to  cause  the  upheavals 
in  the  land  of  their  origin.  Nevertheless,  the  democratic  move- 
ment was  a  reality  which  might  be  hastened  by  these  special 
stimuli,  but  could  be  made  neither  more  nor  less  inevitable  and 
powerful  by  them.  It  was  the  culmination  of  that  emotional 
individualism,  of  that  realization  of  the  value  of  the  individual 
because  the  Absolute  was  back  of  him,  which  had  been  influen- 
cing all  social  movements  since  the  time  of  Jesus.  Now  the  indi- 
vidual had  come  to  realize  that  all  the  values  of  society  were  focused 
in  him,  as  he  had  formerly  believed  the  spiritual  forces  of  the 
world  were  working  for  him ;  and  accordingly  he  set  about  appro- 
priating the  world  about  him  as  he  had  formerly  appropriated 
the  heaven  above  him.  As  the  latter  had  been  secured  through 
ecclesiastical  mediation  until  the  transformation  above  described 
rendered  that  no  longer  necessary;  so,  during  the  period  of 
political  reconstruction,  control  of  the  social  order  was  secured 

I  In  England  the  middle  classes  had  forced  their  way  into  political  power 
through  the  Puritan  revolutions,  but  these  became  assimilated  with  the  aristocracy 
before  the  middle  of  the  eighteenth  century.  A  new  middle  class  did  not  secure 
similar  recognition  until  1832,  and  democracy  was  not  fully  established  until  1867. 
In  Germany  the  masses  did  not  obtain  the  right  to  participate  in  government 
until  about  the  time  of  the  unification  of  the  empire,  and  the  aristocratic  element 
is  still  strong  in  that  country.  In  France  the  revolutionary  establishment  of 
democracy  meant  that  the  masses  had  come  to  understand  their  power;  but  even 
to  the  present  time,  French  democracy  is  scarcely  able  to  apply  itself  to  the  stead- 
fast pursuit  of  intelligently  formed  purposes.  In  America  the  Declaration  of 
Independence  did  not  mean  the  establishment  of  democracy;  for  until  the  close 
of  the  war  all  of  the  commonwealths  retained  property  qualifications  for  the  exer- 
cise of  the  suffrage,  and  not  until  1828  did  the  masses  throw  off  both  legal  and 
moral  limitations  on  their  power. 


SOCIAL  MOVEMENTS  OF  TODAY  319 

through  the  monarch  who  ever  appealed  from  the  aristocracy  to 
the  masses;  but  after  the  formation  of  the  national  states  and 
the  establishment  of  law  and  order  the  individual  sought  to  secure 
that  control  without  mediation. 

We  have  seen  that  this  individualism  grew  out  of  the  fact  that 
the  individual  was  socialized.  Not  only  had  he  so  absorbed  the 
values  of  past  civiUzation  that  he  no  longer  needed  to  have 
these  handed  over  to  him  by  authority,  but  through  the  commer- 
cial development  he  had  come  to  function  with  comparative 
directness  for  the  whole  society  of  the  civilized  world.  Thus  the 
individual  became  conscious  of  himself  at  the  same  time  that  he 
found  his  own  interests  identified  with  those  of  society.  The 
individual  and  the  kingdom  were  reciprocally  related  in  the 
formal  statement  of  Jesus;  the  emotional  individual  could  realize 
an  emotional  brotherhood  during  the  earher  transition  period;  the 
individual  received  something  of  an  intellectual  definition  during 
the  reconstruction  of  agriculture  and  commerce,  but  was  then 
directly  related  to  the  institution,  manor,  or  gild,  and  was  not 
conscious  of  himself  as  an  organ  of  society;  finally,  the  individual 
has  come  to  receive  a  definition  in  terms  of  the  society  of  which 
he  is  an  organic  part.  It  is  now  possible  to  tell  what  an  individual 
is  in  terms  of  his  social  relations,  that  is,  by  describing  his  daily 
duties  toward  his  fellow-men  and  their  obligations  to  him.  The 
interests  of  the  individual  and  of  the  whole  are  at  least  roughly 
identified.  In  pursuing  his  own  ends,  the  individual  furthers  the 
ends  of  society. 

It  was  therefore  possible  for  the  political  philosophers  of  the 
eighteenth  century  to  regard  the  individual  as  the  social  unit 
and  to  claim  for  him  complete  self-governing  powers;  and  for 
the  economists  of  the  latter  eighteenth  and  earlier  nineteenth 
centuries  to  adopt  the  laissez-faire  theory,  contending  that  when 
all  individuals  follow  their  egoistic  tendencies  the  ends  of  society 
are  best  attained,  since  the  individuals  had  become  socialized,  had 
become  social  organs.  Conversely,  the  coUectivistic  theories  of 
the  present  century  are  possible  only  because  the  value  of  the 
individual  has  become  recognized.     That  complete  individualism 


320  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

or  complete  collectivism  can  not  be  realized  in  actual  practice 
does  not  controvert  the  truth  involved  in  both  of  these  positions. 
The  general  nature  of  society  and  of  the  individual  may  be  such 
as  to  render  either  or  both  of  these  normal ;  and  yet  existing  social 
structure  may  for  a  long  time  resist  change,  or  abnormally  egoistic 
or  abnormally  indolent  individuals  may  forever  be  found  in  such 
numbers  as  to  prevent  the  realization  of  complete  individualism 
or  complete  collectivism. 

In  this  connection  it  is  worth  while  to  note  that  the  most  ardent 
socialists  of  continental  Europe  are  likewise  anarchists.  State 
socialism,  the  socialism  of  Rodbertus  and  Bismarck,  is  regarded 
by  the  more  thoroughgoing  socialists  as  an  antidote  for  their 
movement.  And  if  the  socialists  of  America  and  Great  Britain 
are  willing  to  attain  their  ends  through  the  activity  of  the  present 
political  organization,  it  is  only  because  the  individual  feels  that 
he  has  greater  freedom  in  those  countries  and  believes  that  he 
can  control  the  government  wholly  in  the  interest  of  the  masses. 
Practical  socialism  is  not  far  removed  from  anarchism;  collec- 
tivism always  implies  individualism;  Marx  builds  his  theories 
on  the  foundations  laid  by  Ricardo. 

We  are  not  here  concerned  with  the  goodness  or  workableness 
of  any  of  these  programs:  it  is  sufficient  to  observe  that  they  are 
illustrative  of  the  fact  stated  above,  namely,  that  the  individual  is 
defined  and  recognized  as  having  actual  value  only  as  his  daily 
activities  come  to  serve  social  ends,  and  that  the  definite  state- 
ment of  society  can  be  made  only  on  the  basis  of  the  active  indi- 
vidual. The  more  positively  the  freedom  of  the  individual  is 
asserted,  the  more  necessary  it  becomes  to  find  the  law  of  his 
free  activity.  The  coUectivistic  tendency  of  the  present  century 
is  not  a  reaction  from  the  individualism  of  the  last :  it  is  the  con- 
tinued evolution  of  the  latter  tendency.  After  Rousseau  had 
stated  the  freedom  of  the  individual,  he  found  it  necessary  to 
reduce  that  freedom  to  order  through  the  compact  and  the 
recognition  of  the  general  will.  His  "liberty"  was  balanced  by 
"fraternity."^ 

»  "Trouver  une  forme  d 'association  qm  d^fende  et  protfege  de  toute  la  force 


SOCIAL  MOVEMENTS  OF  TODAY  321 

Even  at  the  end  of  the  eighteenth  century  it  was  impossible  to 
find  adequate  terms  for  the  expression  of  the  new  individual.  In 
so  far  as  Rousseau  could  not  tell  on  what  the  rights  he  claimed 
for  the  individual  rested,  he  had  to  fall  back  on  feeling.  In  so 
far  as  a  positive  statement  could  be  given,  it  was  because  the 
social  activities,  chiefly  economic,  had  been  so  highly  developed. 
Now  the  further  positive  definition  of  the  individual  and  the 
more  complete  attainment  of  self-consciousness  on  the  part  of 
the  masses,  which  had  been  so  stimulated  by  the  revolutionary 
philosophy,  was  to  be  secured  through  the  further  industrial 
development.  And  through  the  same  influences  the  collectivistic 
tendencies  were  likewise  advanced  as  never  before.  The  organic 
solidarity  of  society  begun  by  "  commerciahsm "  is  furthered  by 
"industrialism."' 

THE  EXTENSION  OF  DEMOCRACY 

The  capital  facts  of  the  movement  we  are  now  tracing  are 
the  Industrial  Revolution  and  the  settlement  of  new  lands — both 
made  possible  by  the  improvement  of  means  of  transportation. 
Taking  the  second  first,  because  it  both  influenced  the  former  in  the 
older  sections  and  was  the  forerunner  of  industrialism  in  the  newer 
ones,  it  will  be  sufficient  to  consider  briefly  the  effects  of  the  settle- 
ment of  the  territory  of  the  United  States  west  of  the  Alleghenies. 
The  influences  noticed  here  are  practically  the  same  in  kind  as  those 
produced  by  similar  movements  in  Canada,  Australasia,  and 
even  to  some  extent  in  Spanish  America. 

Attention  has  already  been  called  to  the  fact  that,  from  the 
beginning  of  the  transoceanic  discoveries,  the  self-reliance  and 
independence  of  the  explorers  and  colonists  had  much  to  do  with 
the  development  of  individualism,  even  to  the  extent  of  reacting 
on  the  mother  country.  Europe  has  not  ceased  to  feel  the  influence 
of  the  democracy  of  the  newer  countries,  though  that  influence 

commune  la  personne  et  les  biens  de  chaque  associ^,  et  par  laquelle  chacun  s'unis- 
sant  a  tous,  n'oWisse  pourtant  qu'^  lui-meme  et  reste  aussi  libre  qu'auparavant. 

Tel  est  le  probleme  fondamental  dont  le  contrat  social  donne  la  solution 

Chacun  de  nous  met  en  commun  sa  personne  et  toute  sa  puissance  sous  la  supreme 
direction  de  la  volonte  generale;  et  nous  recevons  en  corps  chaque  membra  comma 
partia  indivisible  du  tout. " — Du  contrat  social,  Book  I,  chap.  vi. 


322  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

has  not  been  so  strong  in  recent  years  as  it  formerly  was.  The 
more  recent  democratic  developments  in  Europe  have  been  the 
product  of  industrialism. 

After  the  American  Revolution  the  emigrants  to  the  western 
country  were  bound  to  become  more  democratic  than  the  earlier 
colonists  had  been,  both  because  they  were  completely  cut  off 
from  all  contact  with  the  aristocracy  of  England,  and  because 
they  carried  with  them  the  theories  concerning  the  rights  of  man 
which  had  been  vigorously  proclaimed  in  the  original  states.  Con- 
tact with  civilization  was  sufficiently  close  to  prevent  degen- 
eration, for  commercial  and  political  interests  alike  stimulated 
the  people  and  the  government  of  the  seaboard  states  to  open  the 
routes  to  the  new  settlements.  The  Erie  Canal,  the  Cumberland 
Road,  the  Baltimore  and  Ohio  Railway,  and  the  Louisiana  Pur- 
chase assured  constant  intercourse  and  interchange  between  the 
frontiersmen  and  the  more  thickly  settled  portions  of  their  own 
country  and  the  rest  of  the  world.  It  was  but  natural  that  a 
remarkably  strong  democratic  sentiment  should  grow  up  west 
of  the  mountains,  and  that  it  should  react  upon  the  rest  of  the 
country. 

It  is  well  known  that  the  earlier  political  organization  was  far 
less  democratic  than  the  present.  In  the  beginning  a  property 
qualification  was  very  generally  required  for  the  suffrage,  and 
property  and  religious  qualifications  were  required  for  nearly  all 
offices.  Until  1829  the  presidents  belonged  to  an  aristocracy  of 
culture  and  statesmanship.  Public  officials  were  chosen  by  the 
people  from  among  their  recognized  leaders,  and  they  were  chosen 
as  leaders  of  public  opinion.  Although  advocates  of  the  rights 
of  man,  these  leaders  often  "conceived  of  popular  opinion  as 
aggressive,  unreasoning,  passionate,  futile,  and  a  breeder  of  mob 
violence."  After  the  Revolution  was  accomplished,  the  most 
ardent  of  the  opponents  of  a  strong  central  government  feared 
encroachments  on  state  rights  rather  than  on  individual  liberty, 
and  were  willing  to  trust  the  protection  of  the  rights  of  the  people 
to  strong  state  governments  controlled  by  the  "best"  people  of 
the  smaller  areas. 


SOCIAL  MOVEMENTS  OF  TODAY  323 

Beginning,  however,  with  the  presidential  election  of  1828, 
there  has  been  a  marked  change  to  a  more  radical  form  of  democ- 
racy. An  appeal  was  then  made  to  the  masses  against  the 
aristocracy  of  the  East;  and  from  that  time  to  the  present,  with 
now  and  then  an  exception,  public  opinion  has  led,  rather  than 
followed,  the  public  servants  of  the  nation.  The  jealous  demand 
on  the  part  of  the  people  for  a  more  direct  control  of  government 
has  gone  on  increasing  in  urgency  until  the  state  constitutions 
have  become  masses  of  directly  enacted  statutes — the  difficult 
process  of  amendment  of  the  national  constitution  having  pre- 
vented a  like  change  in  that  instrument — legislators  have  become 
little  more  than  delegates,  and  successful  politicians  have  found 
it  necessary  to  spend  most  of  their  time  observing  and  following 
the  currents  of  a  fitful  public  opinion.^  The  talented  commen- 
tator on  American  institutions  contrasts  this  condition  unfavorably 
with  the  leadership  of  the  statesmen  in  the  House  of  Commons. 
That  this  change  has  been  detrimental  to  the  development  of 
great  statesmanship  and  has  put  a  premium  on  the  arts  of  the 
demagogue,  there  can  be  no  doubt;  but  there  is  reason  to  believe 
that  the  evils  of  extreme  democracy  will  work  themselves  out, 
and  that  the  final  results  will  be  wholly  in  the  interests  of  social 
and  individual  welfare.  EngHsh  statesmanship  seems  to  be  losing 
its  leadership,  and  the  encroachments  of  the  masses  upon  their 
self-constituted  leaders  in  Germany  is  becoming  constantly  more 
significant.  The  cure  is  to  be  found  in  the  further  development 
of  democracy,  rather  than  in  the  return  of  the  people  to  tractable 
acceptance  of  leadership.  "PubUc  opinion  grows  more  temper- 
ate, more  mellow,  and  assuredly  more  tolerant.  Its  very  strength 
disposes  it  to  bear  with  opposition  or  remonstrance.  It  respects 
itself  too  much  to  wish  to  silence  any  voice,"  Certainly,  other 
things  being  equal,  it  is  desirable  to  have  the  largest  possible 
number  of  individuals  realize  their  importance  in  the  social  system. 

More  important,  perhaps,  than  this  democratic  tendency  in 
politics  was  the  growth  of  the  democratic  spirit  of  which  the  politi- 

'  Cf.  the  admirable  discussion  of  public  opinion  in  America  by  Bryce,  Ameri- 
can Commonwealth,  II,  247-374. 


324  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

cal  aggressiveness  was  but  one  of  the  expressions.  In  the  earlier 
days  the  frontiersmen  were  never  backward  about  making  demands 
for  public  lands  and  better  means  of  communication ; '  and  this 
tendency,  sometimes  almost  socialistic,  to  use  the  government 
for  the  promotion  of  economic  ends,  even  of  an  extremely  local 
sort,  has  been  one  of  the  fruits  of  the  independent  and  democratic 
spirit  ever  since.  Naturally,  this  democratic  spirit  would  infect 
the  older  sections ;  and,  after  having  been  intensified  by  the  indus- 
trial development,  it  has  come  to  influence  every  phase  of  Ameri- 
can life,  from  the  control  of  the  highest  functions  of  govern- 
ment to  the  employment  of  domestic  servants.  This  influence  of 
newer  settlements  has  done  much  to  extend  the  democratic  spirit 
in  those  countries  which  have  come  in  closest  contact  with  them. 
But  this  spirit  is  softened  with  the  lapse  of  time,  and  the  descend- 
ants of  the  pioneers  may  become  almost  aristocrats.  It  is  the 
industrial  development  which  causes  the  permanent  expansion 
of  ^democracy;  for  the  industrial  army  can  not  be  wholly  elevated 
above  the  plane  of  struggle.  The  influences  of  industriahsm 
are  deeper  than  those  of  pioneer  life,  as  well  as  more  permanent. 
It  is  these  which  are  back  of  the  most  profound  social  changes 
that  are  now  occurring.  They  are  intensifying  the  democracy 
of  America  and  are  responsible  for  a  more  profound  democratic 
spirit  in  Europe  than  the  earlier  movements  ever  aroused.  The 
European  democrats  of  1848  were  inspired  by  eighteenth-cen- 
tury political  philosophy  and  by  American  experience.  The 
democracy  led  by  Herr  Bebel  has  felt  these  influences  only  indi- 
rectly:   it  is  a  more  direct  product  of  the  Industrial  Revolution. 

INDUSTRIALISM 

Turning  now  to  the  more  important  movement  of  this  period, 
we  find  our  natural  starting-point  in  a  consideration  of  the  indus- 

I  An  examination  of  the  records  of  Congress  reveals  the  fact  that  the  nearest 
approach  to  a  "labor  problem"  in  the  thought  of  public  men,  from  the  Revo- 
lution to  the  close  of  the  war  between  the  states,  was  in  the  attempt  to  meet  the 
demands  of  these  independent  farmers  for  free  lands  or  for  the  extension  of  time 
for  the  payment  of  government  charges.  And  the  construction  of  roads,  railways, 
and  canals  by  the  national  government  and  by  the  state  governments  aided  by 
the  national  government  was  an  absorbing  issue  until  the  crisis  of  1848. 


SOCIAL  MOVEMENTS  OF  TODAY  325 

trial  development  of  England.  The  situation  in  England  was 
such  that  the  great  industries  sprang  up  there  earlier  than  else- 
where and  became  more  nearly  the  whole  interest  of  the  people. 
But  wherever  else  the  industrial  movement  has  gained  headway, 
the  results  have  been  practically  the  same;  and  we  may  say  that 
all  of  the  more  important  nations  have  passed  through  at  least 
the  earlier  stages  of  this  important  economic  transformation. 

The  Industrial  Revolution. — The  Industrial  Revolution  was 
not  the  result  of  the  great  mechanical  inventions:  rather,  the 
inventions  were  the  result  of  the  Revolution,  though,  of  course, 
the  former  in  turn  greatly  accelerated  the  latter.  The  essential 
feature  of  this  social  change  was  the  minute  division  of  labor, 
making  possible  the  profitable  enlargement  of  manufacturing 
establishments,  which  in  turn  stimulated  the  invention  of  labor- 
saving  devices.  This  division  of  labor  depended  upon  the  extent 
of  the  market.^  Even  after  the  extensive  development  of  com- 
merce already  described,  the  market  was  very  limited  in  extent 
as  compared  with  that  of  the  present  day.  The  division  of  labor 
between  the  important  geographical  areas  was  quite  complete. 
No  communities  were  longer  self-sufficing,  even  the  poorest  agri- 
culturists and  domestic  weavers  always  exchanging  some  surplus 
for  commodities  produced  elsewhere;  but  the  means  of  com- 
munication, up  to  the  middle  of  the  eighteenth  century,  were  so 
poor  that  few  of  the  commodities  now  so  important  to  commerce 
could  have  borne  the  costs  of  transportation,  and  the  demand  for 
the  more  staple  commodities  was  limited  for  the  same  cause. 
According  to  contemporary  accounts,  such  as  Young's  and  Defoe's, 
the  roads  of  England  were  almost  impassable;  and  those  of  the 
Continent  were  probably  no  better.     Commerce  depended  chiefly 

*  "As  it  is  the  power  of  exchanging  that  gives  occasion  to  the  division  of  labor, 
so  the  extent  of  this  division  must  always  be  limited  by  the  extent  of  that  power, 
or,  in  other  words,  by  the  extent  of  the  market.  When  the  market  is  very  small, 
no  person  can  have  any  encouragement  to  dedicate  himself  entirely  to  one  employ- 
ment, for  want  of  the  power  to  exchange  all  that  surplus  part  of  the  produce  of 
his  own  labor,  which  is  over  and  above  his  own  consumption,  for  such  part  of  the 
produce  of  other  men's  labor  as  he  has  occasion  for." — Adam  Smith,  Wealth  0} 
Nations,  Bk.  I,  chap.  iii. 


336  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

on  water  transportation.  Here  England  had  the  advantage 
over  all  other  large  nations,  for  both  her  coast-lines  and  her 
internal  waterways  were  of  such  a  character  that  communication 
could  be  kept  up  by  water  between  the  various  important  sections ; 
and  when,  beginning  about  1755,  numerous  canal  systems  were 
constructed,^  it  became  possible  to  carry  on  the  exchange  of 
commodities  even  more  cheaply  than  would  have  been  possible 
with  good  roads.  ^ 

There  were,  however,  other  reasons  for  the  continued  narrow- 
ness of  the  market  and  for  the  earlier  improvement  in  England 
than  on  the  Continent.  The  roads  were  probably  not  so  bad  as 
some  writers  would  lead  us  to  beUeve  from  accounts  of  their  own 
experience.  3  They  were  certainly  bad  enough  to  check  com- 
merce; but  the  miseries  which  could  cause  the  traveler  for  pleasure 
to  give  us  a  gloomy  picture  might  be  taken  as  a  matter  of  course 
by  the  business  man.  The  chief  reason  for  the  continued  limita- 
tion of  the  market  was  the  fact  that  the  wants  of  the  masses,  ren- 
dered so  simple  by  the  long  period  of  privation,  could  expand 
but  slowly.  With  the  improvements  in  agriculture  and  the 
beginning  of  a  real  division  of  labor,  many  of  the  greater  com- 
forts became  necessaries;  but  the  multiplication  of  the  wants  of 
the  masses  could  be  only  by  slow  process,  especially  since  the 
survival  of  the  conception  of  an  appropriate  station  in  hfe  for 
each  individual  yielded  but  slowly  to  the  demands  of  the  new 
situation.  Here,  as  always,  demand  and  supply  were  reciprocally 
related;  only  as  new  wants  emerged  was  there  a  stimulus  to  the 
more  complete  division  of  labor;  only  as  new  products  were  made 
available  could  new  wants  arise.  Under  these  circumstances, 
while  the  world  had  entered  fully  upon  a  new  economic  era, 
progress  could  be  by  slow  stages  only.     Satisfaction  with  some- 

I  Toynbee,  The  Industrial  Revolution  (Humboldt  ed.),  52;  Gibbins,  Industry 
in  England,  355,  356. 

»  Cf.  Adam  Smith's  estimate  of  the  comparative  cost  of  transportation  by 
road  and  by  water  from  London  to  Edinburgh,  op.  cit.,  Bk.  I,  chap.  iii. 

3  Rogers,  Econ.  Int.,  483;  Gibbins,  op.  cit.,  354.  Contra,  Toynbee,  op.  cit., 
52;  Macaulay,  History  of  England,  I,  chap.  iii.  The  last  citation  is  largely  re- 
sponsible for  many  other  exaggerated  statements  that  have  passed  current. 


SOCIAL  MOVEMENTS  OF  TODAY  327 

thing  a  very  little  better  than  the  past  generation  had  enjoyed 
rendered  the  demand  progressive,  but  sluggish.  The  feeble 
demand  meant  a  restricted  market,  and  therefore  but  imperfect 
division  of  labor;  the  imperfect  division  of  labor  prevented  the 
population  from  increasing  rapidly,^  thus,  at  the  same  time  keeping 
down  both  the  demand  and  the  possibiUty  of  industrial  expansion. 
As  the  profits  of  sheep-shearing  had  long  kept  England  from 
embarking  in  manufacturing,  so  the  long-continued  devotion  of 
the  majority  of  the  population  to  agriculture  held  them  back 
from  other  industries,  even  after  the  latter  had  become  more  pro- 
fitable; and  after  weaving  had  become  the  great  industry  of 
England,  it  was  carried  on  extensively  on  the  domestic  plan,  thus 
affording  Httle  stimulus  to  labor-saving  inventions  and  rendering 
England  more  backward  than  any  other  nation.' 

The  expansion  which  led  to  the  Industrial  Revolution  was 
due  to  colonial  expansion  and  its  results.  In  the  first  place, 
the  colonies  proved  to  be  profitable  markets.  By  natural  inclina- 
tion and  because  of  restrictive  legislation,  the  Americans  purchased 
practically  all  of  their  manufactured  goods  from  the  mother 
country.  EngUsh  exports  had  increased  from  about  ^^7, 000,000 
in  1700  to  ;i^i4,5oo,ooo  in  1760,  and  one-third  of  the  exports  went 
to  America,  Meanwhile,  the  Navigation  Acts  (1651  and  1660), 
narrow  and  short-sighted  though  they  were  in  some  respects, 
had  resulted  in  the  building-up  of  a  large  merchant  marine  and 
a  powerful  navy.  The  shipping  business  doubled  in  the  first 
half  of  the  eighteenth  century;  and  the  navy  became  strong 
enough  to  compete  with  all  others  combined  when  the  struggle 
began  for  the  possession  of  India  and  America. 

In  the  next  place,  this  struggle,  which  in  1763  ended  in  Enghsh 
supremacy  in  both  India  and  America,  resulted  in  an  added 
stimulus  to  trade  in  the  enlarged  markets.     There  was  greater 

I  Before  1751  the  largest  decennial  increase  had  been  about  5  per  cent.,  while 
for  each  of  the  next  three  decades  it  became  rapidly  greater,  reaching  14  per  cent, 
for  the  decade  ending  1801  and  over  21  per  cent,  in  the  next.  The  total  population 
of  England  and  Wales  was  6,736,000  in  1760,  while  that  of  England  alone  was 
12,000,236  in  1821. — Gibbins,  op.  cit.,  349. 

'  Rogers,  Econ.  Int.,  chap.  xiii. 


328  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

security  in  America;  and  England's  greatest  industry  was 
developed  through  closer  contact  with  India.  This  was  the 
cotton  industry,  the  first  to  develop  the  factory  system  and  the 
one  to  set  the  pace  for  all  others.  This  industry  had  been  intro- 
duced into  England  by  fugitives  from  Antwerp,  when  that  city 
was  taken  by  Alva  in  1585.  They  settled  in  Manchester  and 
built  up  a  small  but  flourishing  industry.*  Only  the  weft  of 
their  cloth  was  cotton  thread,  the  warp  consisting  of  linen  yam 
from  Germany  and  Ireland,  since  there  was  no  machinery  fine 
enough  to  weave  cotton  only,  nor  had  the  weavers  the  skill  of  the 
orientals.  The  entire  value  of  all  cotton  manufactures  in  Eng- 
land in  1760  was  but  ;,^2oo,ooo  and  but  little  over  a  milHon 
pounds  of  raw  cotton  was  consumed.*  India  had  been  the  chief 
producer  of  cotton  cloth;  and  after  the  establishment  of  closer 
commercial  relations  with  that  country — beginning  even  before 
the  final  expulsion  of  the  French — the  Indian  product  became 
a  strong  competitor  with  the  English.  But  this  competition, 
instead  of  destroying  the  home  industry,  stimulated  it  to  improve 
its  methods  until  the  competition  was  driven  out.  The  industry 
had  already  gained  sufficient  headway  to  make  a  struggle  for 
existence  worth  while.  The  importations  from  India  increased 
the  demand  for  cotton  goods,  and  the  demand  was  made  stronger 
by  fashion  set  by  the  court.  Thus  a  growing  demand  and  the 
pressure  of  competition  ahke  encouraged  improvement.  This 
was  needed,  for  in  1760  the  methods  were  as  simple  as  those 
employed  in  India,  while  the  quality  of  the  product  was  not  equal 
to  that  of  India  because  the  skill  of  the  English  weavers  was  infe- 
rior. Invention  was  encouraged  by  the  free  conditions  under 
which  the  industry  was  carried  on  in  England,  and  these  were 
due  to  its  comparative  unimportance.  On  the  Continent  the 
methods  were  strictly  regulated  and  the  monopoly  of  the  market 
was  guaranteed  to  the  dealers.  Under  these  conditions  there 
was  little  incentive  to  invention.  In  England  the  same  policy 
was  pursued  with  reference  to  the  woolen  industry;   and  the  great 

'  Schulze-Gavernitz,  Der  Grossbeirieb,  26. 
a  Gibbins,  op.  cU.,  346,  347. 


SOCIAL  MOVEMENTS  OF  TODAY  329 

importance  which  was  attached  to  this  industry  by  the  nation 
accounts  for  the  disfavor  in  which  the  feeble  cotton  industry  was 
held  and  for  the  failure  to  support  it  by  the  laws/  The  cotton 
industry,  then,  by  its  unimportance  secured  that  freedom  which 
was  essential  to  the  stimulation  of  invention  and  at  the  same 
time  was  confronted  by  market  conditions  that  made  such  improve- 
ments of  method  necessary  and  profitable. 

The  first  factory  of  the  modem  sort  was  established  by  Ark- 
wright  in  1768.  The  next  year  his  water-frame  was  invented; 
and  the  next,  Hargreaves'  spinning-jenny.  Crompton's  "mule" 
was  invented  in  1779;  and  by  181 1  more  than  4,500,000  spindles 
were  worked  by  this  device.  Cartwright's  power-loom,  though 
invented  in  1785,  was  not  brought  into  general  use  until  18 13; 
and  until  then  the  domestic  system  of  woolen  weaving  was  not 
seriously  injured.  Indeed,  the  machines  first  introduced  resulted 
simply  in  cheapening  the  cost  and  increasing  the  product  of  yam, 
and  therefore  improved  the  business  of  the  domestic  weaver  at 
the  same  time  that  a  more  extensive  market  was  opened  up  for 
the  cloth.  The  cotton  business  expanded  rapidly,  for  all  of  these 
improvements  led  to  increased  consumption,  which  in  tum  led 
to  further  improvements,  making  still  greater  consumption  possible. 
The  quantity  of  raw  cotton  used  rose  from  about  1,000,000  pounds 
in  1760  to  over  4,000,000  in  1775,  to  11,000,000  in  1784,  and  to 
56,000,000  in  1800.'  Here  were  all  the  conditions  necessary 
for  the  most  complete  division  of  labor  and  for  the  continuous 
expansion  of  industry. 

Meanwhile,  inventions  in  another  line  were  contributing  two 
other  important  elements  to  the  factory  system — fuel  and  the 
steam  engine.  The  problem  of  securing  fuel  for  domestic  pur- 
poses had  become  serious  before  the  Industrial  Revolution,  and 
the  trade  in  coal  had  been  so  important  that  the  Stuarts  granted 
monopoUes  in  the  supply  of  London.  But  since  it  was  impossible 
to  keep  water  out  of  the  mines,  the  industry  could  have  but  little 
importance.     This   difficulty  rendered  the   development   of  the 

I  Schxilze-Gavemitz,  op.  cit.,  34-36. 
a  Gibbins,  op.  cit.,  347. 


330  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

iron  industry  practically  impossible.  The  use  of  iron  was  becoming 
more  and  more  extensive,  but  most  of  the  metal  had  to  be  imported. 
The  presence  of  iron  ore  in  England  was  known,  and  a  little  of  it 
had  been  smelted  with  wood.  After  the  revival  of  industry  this 
smelting  became  more  extensive,  and  by  1719  iron  ranked  third 
in  the  list  of  manufactures.  The  trade  then  employed  about 
200,000  persons.  However,  the  waste  of  wood  became  so  great 
that  the  export  or  even  the  manufacture  of  iron  was  discouraged 
by  legislation;  and  by  1740  the  annual  output  had  been  reduced 
to  17,350  tons.  A  pressing  demand  therefore  existed  for  the 
development  of  the  coal  mines,  both  for  domestic  fuel  and  for 
smelting.  The  Savery  and  Newcomen  steam  pumps  were  used 
with  indifferent  success  to  make  the  mines  workable.  It  was 
when  repairing  one  of  the  latter  machines  that  Watt  came  upon 
the  discoveries  which  he  embodied  in  the  steam  engine  in  1769. 
The  new  engine  was  soon  brought  into  use  to  pump  water  from 
the  mines,  and  later  was  used  for  hoisting  purposes.  In  1785 
the  engine  was  introduced  into  the  cotton  mill.  So  this  invention 
meant  the  immediate  supply  of  all  possible  demands  for  domestic 
fuel,  the  immediate  development  of  the  iron  industry,  and  the 
ultimate  application  of  steam  to  all  other  important  industries. 
The  production  of  iron  increased  to  68,000  tons  in  1788,  and  the 
production  has  continued  to  increase  until  it  is  now  about  9,000,- 
000  tons  annually,^  while  that  of  the  United  States  is  about 
18,000,000  tons.' 

Without  further  description  of  the  progress  of  invention  and 
of  factory  development,  we  have  in  the  account  just  given  a  state- 
ment of  all  the  essential  features  of  the  factory  system :  increased 
demand,  improved  methods  of  transportation,  increasing  division 
of  labor,  growing  populations,  mechanical  inventions,  the  appli- 
cation of  steam-power,  concentration  of  labor,  employment  of 
large  capital,  more  strenuous  competition  for  the  control  of  the 

I  Statesman's  Y ear-Book  for  1905,  78.  On  the  development  of  the  mining 
industries,  vide  Gibbins,  op,  cit.,  310-14,  352-54.  On  the  eariy  inventions,  vide 
ibid.,  343-47;  Toynbee,  op.  cit.,  90,  and  authorities  cited  by  them. 

»  Statesman's  Y ear-Book  for  1905,  1306,  1307. 


SOCIAL  MOVEMENTS  OF  TODAY  331 

world-markets.  The  expansion  was  so  rapid  from  the  beginning 
of  the  reign  of  George  III  and  its  social  effects  were  so  portentous 
that  the  change  has  not  unnaturally  been  called  the  Industrial  Revo- 
lution; but  the  more  closely  we  examine  the  movement,  the  more 
we  must  be  convinced  that  it  was  an  evolution,  rather  than  a  revo- 
lution. It  was  simply  the  continuation  with  increasing  momentum 
of  the  same  movement  which  we  have  been  tracing  from  the  time 
when  the  independence  of  the  manor  gave  way  to  a  division  of 
labor  amongst  the  various  parts  of  a  unified  world-society.  The 
steady  growth  in  the  wants  of  the  people,  based  upon  their  general 
prosperity  and  resulting  in  an  increasing  division  of  labor,  was 
the  essence  of  the  Revolution.  The  position  taken  above — that 
the  inventions  were  the  result,  not  the  cause  of  the  Revolution — 
seems  justified  by  the  description  we  have  given  of  the  rise  of  those 
inventions.  The  movement  had  already  begun,  and  was  marked 
by  the  appearance  of  the  capitalist,^  the  gathering  of  workmen 
into  shops,  ^  and  the  division  of  labor,  before  these  mechanical 
discoveries  were  made.  Without  the  latter  the  tremendous  results 
which  have  been  achieved  would  have  been  impossible,  but  the 
change  which  they  introduced  was  one  of  degree  rather  than  of 
principle. 

Capitalism. — The  industrial  movement  has  several  phases 
which  must  be  considered  in  their  relation  to  the  general  social 
movement.  These  are  usually  considered  under  the  aspects 
of  the  "growth  of  capitalism"  and  the  "labor  problem."  To 
these  the  subject  of  modem  consumption  should  be  added. 

Before  the  Revolution  capital  had  little  significance  except  in 
agriculture  and  commerce.     Such  simple  tools  and  machines  as 

»  Master  manufacturers  gave  out  work  to  be  done  in  the  homes  of  employees; 
e.  g.,  in  the  Nottingham  hosiery  trade  there  were  in  1750  fifty  employers  who 
"put  out"  work  for  1,200  frames;  in  Leicestershire  1,800  frames  were  so  employed; 
Manchester  merchants  gave  out  Unen  warp  and  raw  cotton  to  weavers;  nail 
merchants  of  Staffordshire  and  Worcestershire  gave  out  nail-rod  iron  each  week 
to  workmen  and  their  families. — Toynbee,  op.  cit.,  53,  54. 

«  Arthur  Young  found  at  Sheffield  a  silk  mill  employing  152  hands;   at  Dar- 
lington a  manufacturer  employing  over  50  looms;  at  Boynton  a  factory  employing 
15c  hands. — ^Toynbee,  ibid. 


332  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

were  used  in  manufacturing  were  the  property  of  the  workmen 
themselves,  and  consequently  had  no  such  social  importance  as 
modem  capital  has.  Agricultural  improvements  for  the  fertiUz- 
ing  of  large  farms  and  the  carrying-on  of  the  sheep-raising  industry 
had  made  it  necessary  for  large  landowners  to  become  capitahsts.* 
Commercial  activity  involved  the  use  of  a  considerable  amount 
of  capital  in  the  shape  of  vessels  and  stores  of  merchandise.  The 
beginnings  of  the  Revolution  were  marked  by  the  employment 
of  the  capital  of  merchants  in  gathering  the  product  of  domestic 
manufacture  into  central  warehouses,  in  supplying  raw  material 
to  workmen  who  were  paid  a  specific  wage  for  their  work  upon 
it,  and  finally  in  supplying  looms  and  other  implements  for  the 
use  of  hired  workmen  either  in  their  own  homes  or  in  a  large 
building  provided  for  the  purpose.  Here  was  the  beginning  of  a 
tendency  that  would  have  resulted  in  the  differentiation  of  the 
manufacturer  from  the  merchant  and  of  the  artisan  from  the 
employer,  even  had  machinery  not  come  into  such  importance. 
Indeed,  it  is  probable  that  the  factory  would  have  received  a  high 
development  as  far  back  as  the  Tudor  period,  had  it  not  been  for 
legislative  interference  with  the  ownership  and  hiring  of  looms. ^ 
Nevertheless,  except  for  the  introduction  of  the  great  mechanical 
devices  and  the  application  of  steam-power,  capital  could  never 
have  assumed  the  tremendous  importance  which  it  has  attained. 
The  function  of  capital,  then,  is  the  same  in  kind  as  it  was  before 
the  beginning  of  machine  industry,  but  the  quantitative  differ- 
ence is  so  great  as  to  constitute  "capitaHsm"  a  virtually  new 
phenomenon. 

The  immediate  effect  of  the  introduction  of  machinery  was 
the  increase  of  the  size  of  the  producing  unit  and  the  complete 
dependence  of  the  workman  upon  an  establishment  which  only 
large  capital  could  make  possible.  No  competitor  could  enter  a 
field  occupied  by  machine  industry  unless  he  could  procure 
machinery,  and  this  involved  the  investment  of  capital.  And 
since  the  advantages  of  minute  division  of  labor  which  character- 

»  Cf.  Gibbins,  op.  cit.,  212,  216,  271. 
»  Ashley,  op.  cit.,  II,  236,  237. 


SOCIAL  MOVEMENTS  OF  TODAY  333 

ized  the  beginning  of  the  Revolution  were  promoted  by  the  use 
of  machiney,  a  large  capital  was  needed  for  materials  and  labor, 
to  carry  the  processes  of  manufacture  through  their  many  stages 
before  the  product  could  be  put  on  the  market.  From  the  neces- 
sary increase  in  the  size  of  the  producing  unit  arose  the  perception 
of  the  economies  of  production  on  a  larger  and  larger  scale.  These 
economies  involve  the  purchase  and  transport  of  large  quantities 
of  raw  materials,  the  utilization  of  more  highly  developed  machin- 
ery which  can  save  labor  only  when  a  large  output  is  secured,  the 
direct  saving  of  both  manual  and  clerical  labor,  the  increased 
efficiency  of  management,  the  utilization  of  waste  products,  the 
carrying-on  of  repairs,  provision  for  storage,  the  employment  of 
inventive  and  artistic  ability.*  And  beyond  all  of  these  econo- 
mies of  production  on  a  large  scale  it  has  been  found  that  the 
large  business  enjoys  superior  competing  power.  The  possession 
of  a  comparative  monopoly  of  employment  in  a  given  trade  for  a 
given  locality  makes  possible  the  depression  of  wages,  at  least  for 
a  time.  But  the  single  great  industry  is  often  more  easily  coerced 
by  organized  labor.  Because  of  the  economies  of  production 
on  a  large  scale,  a  good  rate  of  profit  may  be  realized  at  a  price 
which  will  drive  smaller  competitors  out  of  business,  after  which 
the  price  may  be  raised  again  without  fear  of  renewed  competi- 
tion; for  a  possible  competitor  of  equal  power  would  know  that 
the  keen  competition  which  must  follow  his  entrance  into  the 
business  would  depress  the  rate  of  profit  below  that  obtained  for 
capital  generally.  Thus,  the  conditions  of  free  competition 
which  were  so  essential  to  the  earlier  stages  of  great  industry  that 
they  were  taken  as  the  ideal  for  all  social  progress  are  found  to  be 
self-destructive — leading  to  a  condition  in  which  labor  is  so 
immobile  that  it  can  not  profit  by  the  competition  of  employers, 
capital  so  fixed  that  it  can  not  freely  seek  its  maximum  profits, 
the  public  so  dependent  upon  sole  producers  that  it  may,  within 
certain  hmits,  be  exploited  without  remedy  save  in  the  setting- 
aside  of  free  competition. 

On  account  of  these  advantages,  the  size  of  the  producing 

*i  Hobson,  The  Evolution  of  Modern  Capitalism,  117,  118. 


334  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

unit  tends  to  become  larger  and  larger,  while  the  number  of  such 
units  becomes  smaller/  until  finally  a  single  one  gains  possession 
of  the  entire  field.  Individual  ownership  passed  into  copartner- 
ship, copartnership  into  the  stock-company,  and  the  latter  is  now 
passing  into  the  so-called  trust.  These  changes  in  the  size  of  the 
average  manufacturing  concern  haY£_b£0^g^t  about  two  impor- 
tant changes  in  their  character. 

In  the  first  place,  the  manager  has  been  pretty  completely 
differentiated  from  the  capitaHst.  Since  no  individual  or  small 
company  of  individuals  could  furnish  the  capital  or  incur  the 
risk  involved  in  the  greater  enterprises,  it  has  been  necessary  for 
the  many  owners  of  capital  to  put  the  actual  management  of 
industry  into  the  hands  of  salaried  officers  who  may  not  own  any 
of  the  capital.  The  supply  of  this  managerial  abihty  for  great 
enterprises  is  relatively  scarce,  and  hence  must  be  liberally  com- 
pensated. The  requisite  ability  seems  to  appear  about  as  the 
development  of  industry  calls  for  it,  but  cases  are  not  unknown 
where  large  industries  have  broken  up  because  of  the  lack  of  it, 
and  it  may  be  questioned  whether  managerial  ability  can  be  found 
that  will  enable  any  great  industry  to  expand  to  its  ideally  most 
profitable  proportions.  The  fact  that  the  manager  receives  a 
princely  salary  and  owns  stock  in  the  company  which  employs 

I  In  the  United  States  the  number  of  industrial  establishments  of  all  sorts 
increased  from  123,025  in  1850  to  512,339  in  1900,  while  the  capital  employed 
increased  from  $533,245,351  to  $9,835,086,909. — Census,  1900.  But  these  statis- 
tics have  little  value  because  they  include  the  cobbler  shop  employing  a  single 
workman  and  the  great  steel  plant  which  employs  thousands.  In  the  last  census, 
also,  establishments  were  catalogued  as  distinct  although  it  was  known  that 
many  of  them  were  under  a  single  ownership. 

As  illustrating  the  tendency  toward  large-scale  production,  the  same  census 
shows  that  the  increase  in  horse-power  during  the  preceding  decade  was  89.8 
per  cent.,  while  the  number  of  establishments  using  power  increased  68.2  per 
cent. 

The  same  census  reports  185  indiistrial  combinations  having  a  total  capital- 
ization of  $1,436,625,910  and  employing  400,046  wage-earners;  but  this  class 
does  not  include  the  large  concerns  which  were  not  formed  by  a  combination  of 
existing  independent  plants,  nor  are  the  combinations  in  the  form  of  security- 
holding  corporations  fully  treated.  During  and  since  the  census  year,  the  con- 
solidation of  independent  producers  has  proceeded  rapidly. 


SOCIAL  MOVEMENTS  OF  TODAY  335 

him  does  not  in  the  least  destroy  the  thoroughly  social  character 
of  his  function.  He  manages  the  capital  of  other  people  who 
appoint  him  as  their  trustee;  he  directs  the  labor  of  individuals 
who  are  legally  and  self-consciously  free;  he  produces  a  utihty 
in  response  to  a  demand  from  a  pubhc  which  supports  the  whole 
enterprise.  If  his  position  enables  him  to  manipulate  the  stock, 
or  oppress  the  laborers,  or  exploit  the  consumers,  it  is  only  because 
the  industrial  development  which  has  produced  him  has  not  yet 
been  fully  consummated.  Great  fortunes  are  now  being  made  by 
the  manipulation  of  stocks,  rather  than  by  production;  and  the 
man  who  can  secure  the  support  of  a  majority  of  the  stock  feels  that 
he  has  a  right  to  exploit  the  minority  interests  and,  finally,  after 
making  a  fictitious  showing  of  earning  power  for  the  company, 
to  sell  the  majority  stock  under  false  pretenses  to  the  investing 
public.  The  law  does  not  yet  give  adequate  protection  against 
such  malfeasance;  but  the  time  will  come  when  the  practice  of 
electing  managers  by  a  vote  of  a  mere  majority  of  the  stock — a 
survival  from  the  time  when  the  relatively  large  average  holding 
in  a  relatively  small,  local  company  enabled  the  stockholder  to 
exercise  a  real  control  over  his  elected  manager — will  give  way 
to  some  suitable  form  of  trusteeship  which  will  be  responsible  to  all 
of  the  capitalists.  The  managers  who  claim  the  right  to  deter- 
mine arbitrarily  the  conditions  of  the  labor  contract  are  confronted 
by  labor  organizations  which  claim  the  right  to  dictate  both  the 
terms  of  employment  and  the  discipUne  of  the  workshop.  It  is 
inconceivable  that  this  tension  is  to  be  permanent.  Some  way 
will  be  found  by  which  collective  bargaining  can  be  made  eflFec- 
tive,  and  at  the  same  time  efl&cient  supervision  and  the  proper 
adjustment  of  labor-cost  to  market  price  maintained.  The 
managers  of  industries  that  have  become  virtual  monopoHes  may 
run  up  the  prices  on  commodities  of  general  consumption  and 
subject  the  pubhc  to  considerable  temporary  hardship.^  Some 
regulation  of  prices  without  too  great  pubhc  interference  with 

I  This  charge  can  seldom  be  made  with  justice  against  the  so-called  trust. 
It  is  a  real  evil  chiefly  in  the  field  of  the  natural  monopoly,  especially  in  the  supply 
of  public  utilities  in  the  large  cities.  Nevertheless,  the  power  to  exploit  the  public 
alarms  many  conservative  citizens. 


336  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

the  private  management  of  business  seems  entirely  within  the 
range  of  possibiUty.  On  the  whole,  these  evils  may  be  regarded 
as  incidental,^  not   essential  to  the  present  industrial  system. 

The  other  change  that  has  occurred  in  the  industrial  world  has 
already  been  suggested.  The  immensity  of  modern  industrial 
undertakings  necessitates  the  employment  of  the  surplus  wealth 
ot Jhe  entire  community.  No  small  company  of  men  can  furnish 
the  requisite  amount  of  capital.  The  capital  invested  in  the 
railways  and  great  manufactories — those  approaching  or  realizing 
the  "trust"  form — must  aggregate  in  the  United  States  something 
like  $10,000,000,000,  while  the  small  factories  and  mercantile 
establishments  not  wholly  owned  by  their  operators  must  also 
represent  an  enormous  total,  and  the  floating  capital  needed  by 
industry  still  more  largely  augments  the  whole.  This  capital 
can  not  be  supphed  by  the  managers  of  industry,  nor  even  by  those 
more  conspicuous  capitalists  who  manipulate  stocks  and  shape 
pohcies.  These  very  wealthy  men  may  own  a  large  share  of  the 
whole;  well-to-do  people  who  take  no  active  part  in  business 
management  also  own  a  large  share;  while  the  better  class  of 
artisans  likewise  supply  hundreds  of  milhons  of  capital,  especially 
of  that  floating  portion  which  is  supplied  through  the  banks  for 
the  payment  of  their  own  wages  and  the  purchase  of  materials. 
Modem  capitaHstic  production  is  essentially  co-operative.  Again 
it  may  be  claimed  that  the  very  great  evils  connected  with  stock- 
watering  and  speculation  are  but  incidental  to  the  system  and 
may  be  remedied  without  interfering  with  the  general  character 
of  the  system  itself. 

The  wide  ownership  of  the  means  of  production,  while  not 
necessarily  an  indication  of  a  tendency  toward  complete  collec- 
tivism, is  nevertheless  an  indication  of  the  social  character  of 
production.  Practically  all  of  the  available  wealth  of  society 
is  now  directed  to  productive  uses.  If  a  completely  socialistic 
scheme  could  be  carried  out,  it  would  be  necessary,  unless  society 

'  My  reference  to  an  evil  as  "incidental"  does  not  imply  that  it  does  not 
require  serious  consideration.  I  mean  that  it  is  possible  for  the  system  on  which 
it  is  fastened  to  exist  in  its  essential  features  with  the  evil  removed. 


SOCIAL  MOVEMENTS  OF  TODAY  337 

should  confiscate  all  private  property  now  held,  to  obtain  the  capital 
from  those  who  are  now  furnishing  it.  If  pubhc  bonds  should 
be  given  to  the  present  capitaUsts,  it  is  difficult  to  see  how  the 
new  system  would  dififer  materially  from  the  present  one  stripped 
of  its  incidental  evils — except  that  the  bonds  might  be  made 
non-interest  bearing.  In  short,  there  has  been  developed,  along 
with  this  great  industrial  system,  a  banking  and  credit  system 
through  which  all  wealth  not  reserved  for  consumption  may 
be  made  available  for  production.  Before  the  Industrial  Revo- 
lution, banking  was  of  very  minor  importance.  In  1750  not  more 
than  twelve  banking-houses  existed  outside  of  London,  and  within 
the  city  there  were  few  of  importance.  The  London  clearing- 
house was  not  estabhshed  until  1775.  At  present  the  enormous 
banking  interests  of  all  civihzed  countries  and  the  equally  impor- 
tant credit  arrangements  by  which  capital  may  easily  be  turned 
into  the  industries  which  need  it,  make  possible  the  employment 
of  the  resources  of  the  whole  society  in  the  production  of  the  goods 
desired  by  society. 

A  further  indication  of  the  organic  character  of  society  is  the 
fact  that  the  individual  is  compelled  to  serve  society  in  caring  for 
his  own  interests  by  turning  back  into  the  productive  processes 
much  of  the  profit  derived  from  invested  capital  or  managerial 
ability.  The  incomes  of  the  wealthy  are  largely  turned  back 
to  productive  purposes,  making  possible  the  enlargement  of 
plants,  the  employment  of  more  laborers,  the  increase  of  produc- 
tion, the  cheapening  of  prices.  In  many  directions  the  consuming 
capacity  of  the  individual,  rich  or  poor,  is  Umited.  Extravagant 
consumption  is  possible  to  a  certain  extent,  and  is,  perhaps,  a 
growing  evil,  though  the  Newport  crowd  may  be  offset  by  other 
milUonaires  whose  plain  li\ing  is  carried  to  the  point  of  parsimony. 
But  the  total  waste  of  the  rich  is  probably  a  small  item  which, 
if  saved  and  distributed  throughout  the  whole  society,  would  be 
of  Httle  consequence.^  The  chief  use  which  the  wealthy  capi- 
talist can  make  of  the  income  of  his  capital  is  to  add  it  to  his 

I  Cf.    Davenport,    Outlines   0}   Economic    Theory,    320-24.       This    writer 
quotes    Charles   Booth   to   show   that   in   London   only  sixty  thousand   persons 


338  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

capital  and  employ  it  in  the  production  of  still  larger  quantities 
of  the  goods  of  common  consumption.  The  evil  of  the  posses- 
sion of  great  wealth  lies  rather  in  the  unworthy  social  prestige 
and  opportunity  for  corrupt  use  which  its  possession  gives  to  the 
rich  than  in  the  greater  amount  of  goods  which  the  rich  consume. 
It  is  possible  that  a  continued  growth  of  democratic  feeling  accom- 
panied by  a  general  improvement  of  the  material  and  intellectual 
condition  of  the  masses  will  take  away  the  satisfaction  and  social 
prestige  which  now  come  from  ostentatious  consumption,  and 
that  a  sounder  poUtical  consciousness  on  the  part  of  the  masses 
will  render  corruption  impossible.  If  the  more  extravagant 
follies  of  fashion  could  be  avoided,  the  influence  of  the  rich  in 
setting  standards  for  reasonable  emulation  might  be  altogether 
desirable.  Certainly  many  of  the  world's  chief  advances  in  culture 
have  been  brought  about  in  this  way.  However  this  may  be, 
these  evils  connected  with  capitahsm  should  not  blind  us  to  the 
real  efiiciency  of  our  present  social  system  in  harmonizing  indi- 
vidual and  social  interests  by  controlHng  all  surplus  wealth  in 
the  interests  of  society.  And  since  the  deeper  currents  of  the 
industrial  movement  are  so  thoroughly  social,  it  may  be  wholly 
undesirable  to  attempt  to  change  them  in  the  direction  of  an 
assumed  perfect  "sociahsm. "  A  more  self-conscious  collectivism 
may  be  found  to  be  desirable;  but  when  constructing  our  ideals 
we  should  not  overlook  the  fact  that  the  present  individuahsm  is 
essentially  social.  Indeed,  it  may  be  questioned  whether  a  social- 
ism that  is  conscious  of  itself  is  as  desirable  as  a  system  which 
secures  all  of  the  values  of  collective  production  without  burdening 
the  pubUc  mind  vdth  the  care  of  the  machinery.  If  the  sociahsts 
tell  us  that  the  "trust"  is  a  step  toward  sociahsm,  may  we  not 
reply  that  the  sociahsm  which  will  be  reahzed  will  be  far  different 
in  form  from  their  Utopia  ?  When  the  process  of  adjustment  to  the 
rapidly  changing  conditions  produced  by  the  progress  of  the 
present  era  shall  have  been  accompHshed,  the  profits  from  the 
promotion,  management,  or  manipulation  of  gigantic  industries 

in  all  enjoy  the  luxury  of  as  many  as  four  servants  to  the  family,  and  "with  less 
than  half  of  these  is  the  number  of  servants  greater  than  that  of  those  they  serve. " 


SOCIAL  MOVEMENTS  OF  TODAY  339 

will  doubtless  be  reduced  to  a  normal  basis/  which  means  a 
reduction  toward  the  vanishing  point.  It  is  at  least  conceivable 
that  the  best  possible  system  is  one  in  which  the  adjustment  of 
individual  and  social  interests  is  such  that  all  of  the  possible  advan- 
tages of  collective  control  of  industry  can  be  secured  automati- 
cally by  allowing  the  individual  to  pursue  his  own  ends."  This 
is  not  a  plea  for  the  old  doctrine  of  laissez  faire,  for  the  latter 
required  the  toleration  of  the  serious  incidental  evils  of  the  com^- 
petitive  system  as  well  as  the  maintenance  of  the  essential  features 
of  the  system  itself. 

Labor. — The  very  conditions  which  furthered  the  Revolution 
in  England  raised  the  labor  problem  at  an  early  period.  Eng- 
land was  ripe  for  industrial  expansion  because  she  could  com- 
mand immediately  a  force  of  laborers  such  as  no  other  nation 
then  possessed.  The  growth  of  large  farms  resulting  from  the 
profitable  nature  of  sheep  culture  and,  later,  of  agricultural  opera- 
tions on  a  large  scale,  had  driven  large  numbers  of  English  peas- 
ants into  the  towns.  The  passion  for  land,  the  desire  on  the  part  of 
men  who  had  been  successful  in  commerce  to  secure  social  stand- 
ing by  becoming  land-holders,  had  made  it  impossible  for  the 
agricultural  workers  to  obtain  property  in  land,  and  hence  they 
had  little  interest  in  improved  methods  of  agriculture;  whereas, 
in  France  and  Germany  the  interest  and  property  of  the  peasants 
in  the  land  made  it  difficult  to  detach  them  from  it  when  factories 
were  estabhshed.  The  attempt  to  introduce  the  agricultural 
improvements,  together  with  the  operation  of  the  Poor  Law, 
incited  "the  large  proprietors  and  farmers  to  rid  themselves  of 
all  superfluous  population  in  the  rural  parts,  and  accelerated 
the  migrations  into  the  towns."  A  large  supply  of  cheap  labor 
was  thus  secured  for  the  factories  of  Lancashire  and  Yorkshire. 
Meanwhile,  the  exhaustion  of  the  French  wars  and  the  pohtical 
disorders   following   them   rendered   competition   impossible   on 

I  Cf.  Newcomb,  "The  Concentration  of  Railway  Control,"  Annals  of  the 
American  Academy  0}  Political  and  Social  Science,  XIX,  89-107,  on  the  fall  of 
railway  profits. 

'  Cf.  the  writer's  article  on  "A  New  Plan  for  the  Control  of  Quasi-Public 
Works,"  in  American  Journal  of  Sociology,  III,  837-47. 


S40  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

the  Continent;  and  the  task  of  settling  new  lands  and  the 
profitableness  of  the  extractive  industries  retarded  the  develop- 
ment of  American  industries  until  after  the  middle  of  the  nine- 
teenth century.^  American  products  fed  the  factory  population 
of  Great  Britain  and  supplied  the  factories  with  much  of  their 
raw  material,  while  the  marine  of  the  latter  country  was  able  to 
transport  all  of  the  supplies  drawn  from  all  parts  of  the  world. 
All  circumstances,  including  some  of  England's  economic  blun- 
ders, seemed  to  contribute  to  the  development  of  her  new  indus- 
tries. 

The  general  features  of  the  labor  problem  as  it  arose  in 
England  and  afterward  spread  to  most  other  countries  need  no 
detailed  statement  for  our  purposes.  The  rise  of  the  new  towns, 
the  influence  of  the  Poor  Laws,  the  evils  of  child  labor,  the,  lower- 
ing of  the  standard  of  living,  the  violence  of  the  laborers,  the 
agitation  for  reform  and  the  passage  of  the  first  factory  acts,  the 
repeal  of  the  protective  tariff,  the  origin  and  growth  of  trade- 
unionism — these  have  been  so  fully  treated  by  numerous  works 
that  an  attempt  to  describe  them  here  would  result  in  a  mere  repe- 
tition of  facts  with  which  every  casual  reader  of  industrial  history 
is  familiar.  The  serious  evils  of  child  labor,  unsanitary  work- 
shops, and  pauperizing  benevolence,  while  they  seemed  unavoid- 
able to  many  employers,  have  yielded  to  a  method  of  treatment 
which  may  be  applied  everywhere,  provided  the  reforms  are  not 
attempted  too  rapidly.  But  some  of  the  results  of  the  concentra- 
tion of  laborers  in  large  numbers,  the  nature  of  their  employment 
and  their  wage  relations,  require  consideration  in  this  connection. 
These  introduce  new  conditions  which  can  not  be  changed  by 
any  reforms  that  leave  the  industrial  system  unchanged,  while 
the  evils  which  first  attracted  exclusive  attention  are,  in  the  long 
run,  of  minor  importance. 

The  massing  of  laborers  for  the  carrying-on  of  large  industries 
resulted,  in  the  end,  in  the  development  of  a  consciousness  of 
power  and  the  organization  of  means  for  the  attainment  of  class 
ends.     Men  having  common  interests,   when  thrown  together, 

'  Cf.  Hobson,  op.  cit.,  76,  77. 


SOCIAL  MOVEMENTS  OF  TODAY  341 

are  bound  to  form  associations.  Since  the  laborers  had  been 
completely  diflferentiated  from  the  masters,  these  associations 
necessarily  differed  from  the  old  gilds  which  had  existed  in  the 
interest  of  the  whole  industry.  They  were  organized  to  wrest 
from  the  employers  larger  concessions,  regardless  of  the  more 
remote  interests  of  the  consumer.  The  success  of  the  organiza- 
tions in  shortening  the  labor  day  and  in  maintaining  a  higher 
level  of  wages  is  sufficient  excuse  for  their  existence.  That  the 
employer's  profits  are  largely  the  result  of  superior  competing 
power,  does  not  prevent  the  workmen  from  raising  the  general 
level  of  wages  on  the  basis  of  which  competition  is  to  take  place. 
Even  where  the  conditions  of  an  industry  do  not  admit  of  an 
increase  of  prices  to  the  consumer,  a  gradual  increase  of  wages 
may  lead  to  increased  efficiency,  to  the  unmixed  benefit  of  the 
workmen.  If  it  can  be  shown  that  the  workings  of  economic  laws 
would  result,  in  the  long  run,  in  substantially  the  same  benefits 
that  are  secured  through  organized  endeavor,  there  is  still  ample 
justification  for  the  existence  of  the  unions  in  their  ability  to 
modify  the  tension  at  the  various  stages  of  the  process  of 
improvement. 

Still  more  important  than  these  immediate  advantages  to  the 
working  population  is  the  translation  which  the  movement  gets 
in  consciousness.  The  complete  division  of  labor  and  the  bring- 
ing of  those  who  are  carrying  on  various  interrelated  activities 
into  intimate  relations  with  one  another,  results  in  the  strengthen- 
ing of  the  democratic  tendency  which  has  already  been  described. 
Whether  the  movement  takes  the  socialistic  or  the  trade-union 
turn,  it  always  means  the  appreciation  of  the  common  man  in 
his  functional  relationships.  In  those  countries  where  other  causes 
have  contributed  to  the  development  of  the  democratic  feeling, 
the  industrial  movement  greatly  strengthens  that  tendency,  and 
brings  to  consciousness  the  importance  of  social  co-operation 
which  was  overlooked  in  merely  political  democratic  movement. 
Where  the  democratic  feeling  had  been  feeble,  the  industrial 
movement  has  always  stimulated  it. 

Now  while  this  consciousness  of  the  social  worth  of  the  common 


342  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

man  may  result  in  much  blindly  selfish  agitation,  the  outcome  is, 
on  the  whole,  a  distinct  social  gain.  The  amelioration  of  the 
lot  of  the  workingman  is  a  desideratum,  but  the  development  of 
this  spirit  is  far  more  important  than  temporary  material  gains. 
Christian  socialism,  profit-sharing,  and  other  benevolent  pro- 
grams^ are  impracticable  in  the  light  of  this  movement.  Those 
writers  who  commend  such  efforts,  though  alive  to  the  evils  of 
the  present  labor  conflicts  and  actuated  by  a  sincere  desire  to 
improve  the  condition  of  the  laborer,  miss  the  whole  spirit  of  the 
movement.  They  hold  up  as  an  ideal  the  old  feudal  relation. 
The  employer  should  feel  his  responsibility  toward  his  working- 
men;  should  provide  them  regular  employment,  pay  them  liberal 
wages,  look  after  their  moral  and  physical  well-being  in  every 
possible  way.  The  employee  should  show  his  gratitude  to  his 
benefactor  by  faithful  service  and  wilHngness  to  go  beyond  the 
letter  of  his  contract.  The  substitution  of  the  "cash  nexus"  for 
the  old  personal  relationship  of  master  and  servant  has  been 
deplored  by  earnest  men  from  Carlyle  to  the  present  time.  There 
was,  indeed,  something  beautiful  in  the  feudal  relationship  at  its 
best.  The  ideal  of  the  strong,  capable  leader  protecting  those 
who  are  dependent  upon  him,  and  of  the  faithful  follower  loyally 
seeking  to  advance  his  lord's  interests,  is  not  without  its  attrac- 
tiveness. But  the  nature  of  things  is  against  the  restoration  of 
this  order  of  society.  The  spirit  of  the  labor-class  movement  is 
wholly  against  such  a  backward  step.  At  their  best,  the  trade- 
unionists  regard  social  recognition  and  independence  as  more 
important  than  material  betterment.  They  do  not  want  benevo- 
lence or  charity;  they  will  have  "justice."  While  their  conception 
of  justice  in  the  concrete  may  often  be  extravagant,  they  are  right 
and  the  Christian  socialists  are  wrong.  It  is  better  that  the 
tension  between  capital  and  labor  should  continue  than  that  a 
return  should  be  made  to  some  form  of  status.  While  the  friction 
causes  misery  and  disorder,  the  outcome  will  represent  a  distinct 

I  German  state  socialism,  so  long  at  it  is  in  the  hands  of  the  present  ruling 
classes,  is  very  similar  to  Christian  socialism.  It  is  tolerated  by  the  social  demo- 
crats only  becaxise  they  hope  ultimately  to  secure  control  of  it. 


SOCIAL  MOVEMENTS  OF  TODAY  343 

advance.  So,  one  result  of  the  Industrial  Revolution  has  been  an 
intensification  of  the  democratic  tendency,  coupled  with  a  new 
sense  of  class  solidarity. 

The  old  system  is  gone  never  to  return.  The  separation  lamented  by 
Carlyle  was  inevitable;  but  we  can  now  see  that  it  was  not  wholly  evil.  A 
terrible  interval  of  suffering  there  was,  indeed,  when  the  workman,  flung  off 
by  his  master,  had  not  yet  found  his  feet;  but  that  is  passing  away,  and  the 
separation  is  recognized  as  a  necessary  moment  in  that  industrial  progress 
which  enabled  the  workman  to  take  a  new  step  in  advance.  The  detested 
cash -nexus  was  a  sign,  not  of  dissolution  but  of  growth;  not  of  the  workman's 
isolation  but  of  his  independence.  If,  however,  Carlyle  was  mistaken  in 
denouncing  the  Revolution,  he  was  right  in  proclaiming  that  isolation  is  not 
the  permanent  relation  of  human  life.  If  history  teaches  us  that  separation 
is  necessary,  it  also  teaches  us  that  permanent  separation  is  impossible.  The 
law  of  progress  is  that  men  separate;  but  they  separate  in  order  to  unite. 
The  old  union  vanishes,  but  a  new  union  springs  up  in  its  place.  The  old 
union  founded  on  the  dependence  of  the  workman  disappears;  a  new  imion 
arises  based  on  the  workman's  independence.  And  the  new  union  is 
deeper  and  wider  than  the  old.  For  workman  and  employer  parted  as  pro- 
tector and  dependent  to  unite  as  equal  citizens  of  a  free  state.  Democracy 
makes  union  possible — creates  its  initial  conditions.' 

The  solution  of  the  tension  between  capital  and  labor,  leaving 
out  of  consideration  for  the  time  the  possibility  of  socialism, 
seems  to  be  in  the  direction  of  the  organization  of  an  entire  indus- 
try on  the  principle  of  the  gild,  though,  of  course,  on  a  much 
freer  plan.  There  are  four  conceivable  objects  for  which  the 
trade-union  may  work.  The  first  and  most  immediate  of  these 
is  to  force  the  employer  to  give  up  a  part  of  his  profits.  This 
can  not  be  done  successfully  for  a  long  period  in  any  industry. 
Under  ordinary  circumstances  in  competitive  industries  it  can 
not  be  done  at  all.  Competitive  profits  are  a  differential.  The 
marginal  employer  obtains  no  pure  profits,  but  the  union  will 
enforce  the  same  wage  scale  upon  him  that  is  maintained  in  the 
more  favorably  situated  establishments.  Therefore,  unless  the 
price  can  be  increased,  the  increased  cost  of  production  will  force 
him  out  of  business.  The  price  remaining  the  same,  the  non- 
marginal  employers  could  pay  higher  wages;     and  the  supply 

^Toynbee,  op.  cit.,  199,  200. 


344  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

being  curtailed  by  the  retirement  of  the  marginal  employers,  they 
could  raise  the  price  slightly  and  maintain  their  old  profits  even 
with  higher  wages.  But  the  retirement  of  the  marginal  employers 
would  throw  so  many  men  out  of  work  that  the  higher  scale  of 
wages  could  not  be  maintained.  Where  monopoly  profits  are 
obtained  the  union  may  force  the  monopoly  to  share  these  with  labor. 
But  the  capitalistic  monopoly,  at  least,  endeavors  to  keep  the  price 
down.  If  it  does  not  do  so,  competition  is  hkely  to  arise.  When 
well  established  and  well  managed,  the  capitalistic  monoply 
probably  finds  its  chief  advantage  in  steadier  business  conditions, 
rather  than  higher  profits.  If  it  keeps  up  its  profits  in  dull  times, 
when  the  ordinary  establishment  is  running  without  profits,  these 
can  not  be  encroached  upon  by  labor,  for  there  are  then  so  many 
men  out  of  work  that  the  union  can  not  maintain  its  control.  If 
the  monopoly  obtains  extraordinary  profits  in  good  times,  these 
may  be  cut  into  by  labor,  just  as  the  extraordinary  profits  of 
competitive  industries  may  be.  But  at  all  times  the  monopoly 
employer  occupies  a  strong  position  in  dealing  with  labor,  and  is 
not  likely  to  lose  in  wages  what  he  gains  from  monopoly  control, 
except  in  times  of  exceptional  business  activity.  It  should  be 
noted,  also,  that  numerous  competing  industries  may  enjoy  excep- 
tional profits  during  the  periods  of  great  activity.  If  new  capital 
can  not  flow  into  the  industry  immediately,  even  the  marginal 
producer  may  obtain  high  profits  for  a  time.  Under  these  cir- 
cumstances, labor  is  bound  to  demand  and  to  receive  higher 
wages,  and  the  increase  will  come  out  of  the  profits;  for  the  price 
is  already  considerably  above  the  marginal  cost  of  production. 
On  the  whole,  then,  it  seems  that  organized  labor  can  not  gain 
permanently  at  the  expense  of  profits,  though  the  temporary 
gains  during  periods  of  great  business  activity  may  be  considerable. 
A  more  promising  field  for  trade-union  acti\ity  would  seem  to 
be  in  the  direction  of  increasing  the  efiiciency  of  labor.  This  is 
seldom,  if  ever,  a  conscious  aim  of  the  modem  labor  organization. 
Indeed,  the  union  usually  discourages  increased  efficiency.  It 
is  assumed  that  there  is  a  given  amount  of  work  to  be  done  and  that 
if  those  who  are  employed  do  not  work  too  rapidly,  the  job  will 


SOCIAL  MOVEMENTS  OF  TODAY  345 

last  longer  or  will  furnish  employment  for  a  larger  number  of  men. 
In  either  event,  the  increased  demand  for  labor  is  counted  on  to 
raise  wages.  Some  of  the  wiser  labor  leaders  have  mastered  the 
economic  facts,  but  the  average  workman  believes — and  the 
average  union  endeavors  to  give  force  to  that  belief — that  the 
interest  of  the  laborer  is  secured  by  hmiting  the  output.  Of 
course,  the  laborer  must  be  paid  from  the  product  and  must  lose 
in  the  end  if  the  product  is  diminished.  However,  while  the 
conscious  endeavor  of  the  union  is  not  to  increase  the  efficiency 
of  labor,  this  result  has  often  been  accomphshed  indirectly  by 
the  unions.  In  so  far  as  the  material  condition  of  the  laborer 
is  improved,  his  standard  of  living  raised,  he  is  hkely  to  be  more 
efficient.  Privilege  does  not  often  understand  its  own  inter- 
ests. Higher  wages  or  shorter  working-time  may  so  increase  the 
efficiency  of  labor  that  the  cost  of  production  is  actually  lowered ; 
but  these  are  most  hkely  to  be  introduced  as  a  result  of  a  strug- 
gle between  organized  labor  and  the  employer.  At  least,  they 
are  most  likely  to  be  secured  as  a  result  of  joint  bargaining. 

A  third  object  of  the  labor  union  might  be  the  exploitation  of 
unorganized  labor.  The  older  trade-unionism  probably  succeeded 
largely  because  there  was  so  much  labor  that  was  not  organized. 
If  profits  can  not  be  encroached  upon  and  prices  can  not  be 
increased,  wages  in  certain  trades  may  nevertheless  be  increased, 
provided  certain  other  workmen  can  be  forced  to  accept  lower 
wages.  It  has  been  to  the  advantage  of  the  skilled  mechanics 
in  America  that  much  of  the  rougher  work  has  been  done  by 
immigrants  who  were  accustomed  to  lower  standards  of  Hving. 
The  present  tendency,  however,  is  to  organize  all  grades  of  labor. 
First  in  America  through  the  Knights  of  Labor  and  later  through 
a  federation  of  all  trade-unions,  the  attempt  has  been  made  to 
set  the  whole  laboring  class  over  against  the  employers  and  con- 
sumers. There  is  a  feeling  of  class  sohdarity  among  the  laborers 
that  forbids  the  strong  to  exploit  the  weak.  The  motive  of  the 
labor  leaders  in  organizing  the  workmen  who  are  still  outside  of 
the  unions  is  probably  not  disinterested.  BeUeving,  as  they  do, 
that  labor  may  gain  at  the  cost  of  the  employer  or  the  consumer 


346  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

they  feel  that  the  opposing  forces  can  be  defeated  more  easily 
when  the  labor  army  is  sohdly  organized.  There  is  usually  nothing 
noble  in  the  sympathy  strike  or  the  boycott  of  goods  produced 
by  industries  in  which  strikes  are  in  progress,  though  class  feeling 
sometimes  dictates  such  united  action  where  there  is  nothing  to 
gain.  If  permanent  gains  are  to  be  secured  from  the  employers 
as  such,  there  is  doubtless  a  considerable  advantage  in  the  organ- 
ization of  the  whole  labor  force.  The  sympathy  strike  and  the 
boycott  may  sometimes  be  employed  effectively;  but,  aside  from 
their  bad  effect  on  the  pubUc,  whose  moral  support  is  usually 
needed,  the  loss  in  wages  is  so  large  that  sufficient  contributions 
can  not  be  made  to  those  immediately  interested  in  the  strike. 
A  universal  strike  is  likely  to  prove  a  failure,  but  the  strike  at 
some  strategic  point,  supported  by  other  workmen  still  in  receipt 
of  regular  wages,  is  likely  to  succeed.  This  has  been  the  pohcy  of 
the  coal-miners  of  the  United  States,  who,  concentrating  their 
attack  on  the  anthracite  employers  while  nearly  all  other  miners 
remained  at  work,  were  able  after  victory  in  their  first  struggle,  to 
make  successful  demands  upon  employers  in  other  coal  fields. 
In  this  case,  however,  the  stubborn  opposition  at  the  first  point 
of  attack  prevented  operations  elsewhere  until  a  period  of 
remarkable  demand  for  coal  was  drawing  to  a  close.  The  per- 
manent results  of  this  whole  series  of  campaigns  will  probably 
be  much  below  the  expectations  of  the  workmen  and  the  beHef 
of  the  public.  Yet  the  plan  of  attacking  the  employing  class 
piecemeal,  instead  of  as  a  whole,  must  be  commended  as  the 
wiser  pohcy.  But  aside  from  all  of  these  advantages  of  the  work- 
ing-class movement  as  a  whole,  the  narrow  and  possibly  more 
selfish  trade-imionism  proper  would  secure  more  sohd  gains  for 
the  members  of  the  stronger  crafts. 

The  fourth  possible  object  of  trade-unionism  is  that  suggested 
above,  namely,  the  union  of  both  workmen  and  employers  to 
advance  prices  to  the  consumer.  The  mere  mention  of  such  a 
pohcy  suggests  its  difficulties.  Prices  can  not  be  advanced 
arbitrarily  without  checking  consumption.  Yet  if  a  well-managed 
monopoly  may  estabhsh  a  price  which  is  neither  so  low  as  com- 


SOCIAL  MOVEMENTS  OF  TODAY  347 

petitive  production  would  bring  about,  nor  so  high  as  a  short- 
sighted manager  might  obtain  for  a  part  of  the  product,  but  at 
the  level  which  yields  the  maximum  profit ;  there  is  no  reason  why 
a  monopoly  of  labor  and  a  monopoly  of  capital  might  not  unite  in 
estabUshing  a  price  which  would  yield  the  maximum  returns  to 
both.  The  strong  trade-union  is  able  to  meet  employers  with  a 
consciousness  of  power  and  a  feeling  of  equality,  and  the  two 
parties  can  agree  upon  a  labor  contract  the  cost  of  which  must 
be  charged  to  the  consumer.  Some  trades,  notably  the  building 
trades  in  certain  large  cities,  have  obtained  such  recognition. 
Where  the  costs  of  production  are  not  recklessly  increased,  the  plan 
may  be  successful.  If  society  demands  a  given  product,  it  seems 
but  proper  that  those  who  are  engaged  in  its  manufacture  should 
receive  compensation  that  does  not  fall  below  a  certain  minimum 
fixed  with  reference  to  the  general  level  of  wages  and  the  con- 
ditions of  business.  The  determination  of  such  a  wage  involves 
delicate  computations  which  it  is  perhaps  not  yet  possible  to  make, 
but  the  method  being  adopted,  experience  will  doubtless  open 
the  way  to  the  settlement  of  details.  The  extraordinary  demand 
for  buildings  in  large  cities  has  enabled  contractors  to  accept  an 
extraordinary  wage  scale  and  to  make  successful  bids  on  such  a 
basis ;  but  even  there  the  demand  has  often  been  so  perceptibly 
checked  that  the  contractors  no  longer  accept  the  situation  as  toler- 
able. ^Vhen  the  leader  of  the  mine-workers  suggested,  as  reported, 
that  the  price  of  anthracite  coal  be  increased  to  cover  increased 
wages,  it  was  stated  that  prices  were  already  as  high  as  the  demand 
would  stand;  and  this  was  undoubtedly  true,  for  the  substitution 
of  higher  grades  of  bituminous  coal  for  anthracite  had  already 
placed  the  latter  industry  in  such  a  position  that  it  could  barely 
keep  the  prices  high  enough  to  cover  costs  of  production,  except  in 
years  of  exceptional  general  prosperity.  The  peaceful  relations  be- 
tween British  manufacturers  and  the  trade-unions  have  probably 
been  responsible  in  part  for  the  check  on  the  foreign  trade  of  Great 
Britain,  for  the  costs  of  production  make  it  impossible  to  compete 
with  German  and  American  manufacturers  in  markets  where  a 
monopoly  was  formerly  enjoyed.     It  is,  then,  only  within  narrow 


348  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

limits  that  labor  may  gain  at  the  cost  of  the  consumer;  but  within 
those  limits  agreements  may  be  reached  whereby  wages,  hours, 
and  conditions  of  labor,  and  the  internal  control  of  industry  shall 
be  settled  without  friction.    Thus, 

boards  of  conciliation  may  grow  into  permanent  councils  of  employers  and 
workmen,  which,  thrusting  into  the  background,  but  not  superseding,  trades 
unions  and  masters'  associations — for  these  must  long  remain  as  weapons 
in  case  of  a  last  appeal  to  force — should,  in  the  light  of  the  principles  of  social 
and  industrial  science,  deal  with  those  great  problems  of  the  fluctuation  of 
wages,  of  overproduction  and  the  regulation  of  trade,  which  workmen  and 
employers  together  alone  can  settle.' 

These,  then,  are  the  possible  gains  to  labor  from  organized 
effort :  the  wresting  from  employers  of  part  of  their  profits,  where 
the  latter  do  not  have  for  a  given  time  or  industry  a  marginal 
point  of  disappearance;  the  increase  in  efficiency  of  labor  by 
raising  the  standards  of  living  by  a  poHcy  of  opportunism;  the 
increase  of  the  wages  of  organized  labor  by  the  depression  of  the 
wages  of  the  weaker  trades;  the  increase  of  wages  at  the  cost  of 
the  consumer. 

The  evils  of  inequitable  distribution  are  very  great;  and  we 
must  regard  with  favor  any  movement  that  can  secure  for  the 
mass  of  the  industrial  population  a  larger  share  of  the  goods  of 
life,  or  enable  them  to  profit  as  workers  by  the  substitution  of 
mechanical  aid  for  human  power  in  the  freeing  of  a  greater  portion 
of  their  time  from  the  monotonous  round  of  ordinary  labor.  But 
a  little  reflection  must  convince  us  that  neither  trade-unionism 
nor  socialism  can  secure  these  results  in  very  large  measure.  We 
have  no  mathematics  by  which  to  determine  what  is  the  actual 
product  of  the  labor  element  in  industry;*  and,  besides,  it  is  not 
a  share  of  the  product,  but  of  the  values  created,  that  the  pro- 
ducers claim,  and  the  determination  of  values  rests  with  all  con- 
sumers as  well  as  with  the  particular  producers  concerned. 
Further,  as  we  have  seen,  there  is  only  a    remote    connection 

*  Toynbee,  op.  cit.,  201. 

»  Clark,  The  Distribution  of  Wealth,  proves  only  that  both  capital  and  labor 
are  productive.  His  theoretical  separation  of  the  respective  shares  could  not  be 
applied  practically  to  any  actual' case. 


SOCIAL  MOVEMENTS  OF  TODAY  349 

between  wages  and  profits.  It  is  only  at  the  expense  of  the  con- 
sumer that  wages  can  be  increased;  and  when  such  an  increase 
occurs,  not  only  is  there  danger  that  the  industry  may  suffer,  but 
it  may  happen  that  the  wage-earners,  being  the  chief  consumers, 
may  lose  in  real  wages  as  much  as  they  gain  in  money  wages.  ^ 
So,  trade-unionism  is  at  best  opportunism.  Its  benefits  to  many 
thousands  of  workers  have  been  very  great ;  and,  it  may  be  added, 
its  injury  to  business  has  Hkewise  been  great.  But  its  ideal  is 
a  temporary  ideal,  and  its  solution  of  the  labor  problem  is  not  the 
ultimate  one.  Where  competition  is  relatively  important,  either 
in  actuality  or  potentiality,  profits  will  fall,  when  the  industry  has 
become  fully  established,  until  they  approach  the  vanishing- 
point.  Gains  may  be  made  when  managers  and  operatives  unite 
in  some  such  way  as  has  been  indicated  above,  but  this  union 
involves  the  wiUingness  of  the  pubhc  to  pay  higher  prices,  which, 
in  turn,  usually  means  that  less  can  be  expended  on  the  products 
of  other  industries  whose  internal  condition  is  equally  in  need  of 
improvement.  Granting  that  the  demand  in  a  specific  case  will 
remain  the  same,  there  will  be  a  diminution  in  the  demand  for 
the  products  of  other  industries  and  a  consequent  dislocation 
in  distribution  elsewhere.  The  best  work  of  the  trade-union  has 
been  the  equaUzation  of  wages  in  various  centers  of  the  same 
industry  and  the  prevention  of  local  exploitation  of  labor  by  over- 
reaching employers,  and  the  gradual  raising  of  the  level  of  wages 
in  co-operation  with  the  employers.'  If  the  ideal  of  trade- 
unionism  can  be  realized  and  all  labor  drawn  into  its  ranks,  it 

I  Except  where  a  single  trade  is  strongly  organized  and  can  secure  an  advance 
while  other  trades  stand  still. 

'  In  the  above  discussion  I  have  not  dealt  with  the  question  of  increasing 
wages  at  the  expense  of  rent  or  interest.  Rent  being^a  differential  not  depending 
upon  the  work  of  any  given  laborers,  it  is  impossible  for  labor  as  such  to  reach  it, 
though  it  might  be  possible  and  desirable  for  the  community  as  a  whole  to  appro- 
priate it.  Interest  being  the  payment  necessary  to  draw  the  marginal  capital 
required  by  industry  from  consimiption  to  production  purposes,  it  would  be  impos- 
sible to  increase  wages  by  reducing  interest.  Even  under  a  socialistic  regime, 
if  wages  should,  for  the  moment,  absorb  the  whole  product  of  industry,  it  would 
be  necessary  to  pay  interest  in  order  to  draw  consumption  wealth  back  into  pro- 
duction. 


35°  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

must  become,  not  a  trade  union,  but  a  union  of  capital  and  labor.  For  if 
the  time  were  come  when  capital  was  forced  to  show  its  books  to  labor  and 
prove  that  labor  was  getting  all  the  share  the  wage-earners  could  in  reason 
or  expediency  claim,  then  to  persevere  in  asking  more  would  be  suicidal; 
and  the  only  form  of  union  left  would  be  that  of  capital  and  labor  working 
together  to  produce  the  largest  total  result.' 

Consumption. — After  all,  the  controlling  influence  in  produc- 
ion  is  consumption,  and  the  question  of  real  wages  is  much  more 
important  than  that  of  money  wages.  It  is  doubtless  because  the 
productive  processes  have  been  so  completely  socialized  that 
economic  theory  which,  during  the  earher  stages  of  industrial 
expansion,  had  found  its  chief  interest  in  phenomena  of  pro- 
duction, has  shifted  its  interest  to  those  of  consumption  and  dis- 
tribution. The  first  tendency  away  from  almost  exclusive 
emphasis  on  production  is  foimd  in  the  sociahsts.  Their  interest 
is  in  the  problems  of  distribution,  because  the  inequahties  in  com- 
pensation seem  to  them  to  be  the  greatest  of  social  evils,  the 
general  social  interest  in  the  industrial  processes  not  appearing 
to  be  worthy  of  notice.  No  desire  is  expressed  for  a  change  in 
the  system  of  production  that  now  prevails.  The  evil  results  to 
the  laborer  of  minute  division  of  labor  are  recognized;"  but  the 
remedy  is  to  be  found,  not  in  the  abandonment  of  division  of 
labor,  but  in  preventing  the  capitahst  from  wresting  from  the 
laborer  that  portion  of  the  product  which  represents  his  surplus 
labor.3  Production  has  already  been  sociaHzed  through  the 
division  of  labor  and  the  employment  of  capital.  If  it  is  true,  as 
held  above,  that  modem  productive  processes  draw  back  into 
themselves  a  great  part  even  of  the  product  secured  by  the  owners 
of  capital,  then  the  system  is  about  as  completely  socialized  as 
would  be  possible  under  any  control.  True,  the  wastes  of  com- 
petition and  of  the  fitful  consumption  caused  by  the  display  of 
spending-power  still  remain,  but  these  are  rather  external  to  the 
productive  processess  than  essential  elements  in  them;  and  the 
former  of  these  is  being  eradicated  in  so  far  as  it  has  to  do  with 

I  Smart,  Studies  in  Economics,  317. 

»  Marx,  Capital  (Hvunboldt  ed.  ),  21&-20. 

3  Ibid.,  331,  332. 


SOCIAL  MOVEMENTS  OF  TODAY  351 

production  itself.  The  evils,  then,  seem  to  be  on  the  side  of 
distribution  instead  of  production.  The  demand  is  for  the 
"whole  produce  of  labor,"  and  the  control  of  the  means  and 
methods  of  production  is  desired  simply  to  secure  the  equitable 
distribution  of  that  product. 

Many  English  and  American  economists  who  uphold  the  present 
system  Ukewise  lay  the  chief  emphasis  on  the  subject  of  distribu- 
tion. *  It  is  assumed  by  some  that  consumption  is  a  purely 
individualistic  phenomenon.  It  is  but  natural  that  so  much 
attention  should  be  directed  to  the  solution  of  problems  of  distri- 
bution. When  production  was  assuming  new  forms  and  new 
proportions,  a  system  of  economic  theory  was  developed,  starting 
from  the  point  of  view  of  the  manager  of  industry  and  attempting 
to  show  how  his  interests  could  be  best  advanced.  It  was  not 
strange  that  these  economists  were  men  who  lived  in  close  contact 
with  the  new  industrial  forces.  Now  that  strong  practical  interests 
center  in  the  problems  of  distribution,  it  is  but  natural  that 
writers  who  live  in  the  midst  of  the  conflict  should  work  especially 
on  the  theory  of  distribution.  No  system  of  economic  theory 
has  been  based  upon  distribution,  but  the  subject  occupies  a  large 
place  in  economic  discussion.  Problems  of  consumption  may 
be  vastly  more  important  than  those  of  production  or  distribu- 
tion; but  employers  and  workmen  represent  definite  organized 
forces,  while  the  interests  of  the  consumers  can  not  be  definitely 
organized  for  the  active  pressing  of  claims.  Even  in  current 
discussions  of  capitaUstic  monopolies,  mgje  attention  is  usually 
paid  to  the  competitor  who  is  crushed  or  to  the  workman  who  is 
exploited  or  thrown  out  of  work,  than  to  the  consumer  who  suffers 
from  increased  prices.  The  phenomena  of  consumption  have 
been  give  a  central  place  in  economic  theory  first  by  the  Austrian 
writers  who  are  spectators  from  a  distance  of  the  modem  indus- 
trial processes.     This  is  undoubtedly  the  more  adequate  point 

»  E.  g.,  Clark,  op.  cit.  This  writer,  however,  admits  that  consumption  may 
have  an  important  influence  on  production,  p.  23.  When  the  chief  emphasis  is 
laid  on  distribution,  it  may  still  be  possible  to  regard  that  subject  as  a  sub-division 
of  production. 


352  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

of  view  for  the  treatment  of  economic  problems.*  It  recognizes 
the  organic  relation  of  the  whole  industrial  process  to  the  whole 
social  life.  It  assumes  that  the  interest  of  society  in  the  supply 
of  its  wants  and  the  maintenance  of  its  wealth  must  take  prece- 
dence of  the  interest  of  the  capitalist  or  manager  in  his  profits  or 
of  the  workman  in  his  share  of  the  dividend.  It  is  because  pro- 
duction has  been  so  completely  socialized  that  attention  has  been 
turned  to  the  problems  of  distribution  and  consumption,  and  the 
former  of  these  new  points  of  view  represents  simply  a  halting- 
place  on  the  way  to  the  latter  and  more  organic  one. 

While  production  has  been  pretty  thoroughly  sociahzed,  con- 
sumption has  been  much  less  completely  socialized.  Distribution 
is  not  co-ordinate  with  these,  but  is  an  intermediate  process  which 
becomes  normal  in  proportion  as  the  other  two  are  sociahzed. 
Except  for  minor  perturbations  which  trade-unionism  and  pal- 
liative legislation  may  remedy,  distribution  becomes  economically 
automatic  when  production  and  consumption  are  normal.  There- 
fore, the  great  problem  of  social-economics  is  the  socialization 
of  consumption. 

It  is  not  claimed  that  modem  consumption  is  lacking  in  this 
social  character,  or  that  it  may  be  improved  to  any  great  extent 
by  conscious  effort.  Indeed,  the  greater  part  of  the  output  of 
modem  industry  destined  for  actual  consumption  is  of  a  character 
to  meet  our  demands;  and  therefore  the  condition  of  all  classes 
of  society  except  the  residuum  is  hopeful.     By  socialized  con- 

^  I  have  no  doubt  that  the  philosophically  adequate  statement  of  economic 
theory  must  include  both  consumption  and  production,  both  supply  and  demand, 
for  the  two  are  reciprocally  related.  I  mean  by  this  that  neither  consumption  nor 
production  must  be  taken  as  statical,  the  other  being  taken  as  an  independent 
variable.  Both  are  dynamic  phenomena,  and  both  must  be  taken  as  reciprocally 
cause  and  effect,  starting-point  and  terminus.  The  Austrian  theory  is  probably 
as  defective  logically  as  that  of  the  Manchester  school;  but  practically  it  seems 
more  nearly  adequate  to  regard  the  economic  processes  in  the  hght  of  the  social 
demand  proceeding  from  consumption  than  from  the  point  of  view  of  the  motives 
of  the  leaders  of  production  or  of  the  demands  of  the  laborers.  My  discussion 
in  this  chapter  indicates  the  social  nature  of  both  production  and  consumption, 
but  this  is  not  the  place  for  an  attempted  statement  of  economic  theory  which 
would  comprehend  the  whole  economic  activity — nor  should  I  feel  able  to  make 
the  statement,  had  I  the  space. 


SOCIAL  MOVEMENTS  OF  TODAY  353 

sumption  is  meant  the  consumption  of  goods  which  minister  to 
the  most  essential  functions  of  social  life,  and  their  consumption 
by  all  classes  of  society.  Food,  clothing,  dweUings,  and  all  things 
necessary  to  a  wholesome  physical  existence  are,  of  course,  of 
primary  importance.  The  consumption  of  these  may  be  said 
to  be  social  when  all  grades  are  within  the  reach  of  all  classes  of 
society — not  that  every  man  will  enjoy  the  same  comforts,  but 
that  every  man  may  improve  his  consumption  in  every  direction 
by  steady  progress  from  the  commonest  to  the  richest  products. 
Conmiodities  that  satisfy  aesthetic,  intellectual,  rehgious,  or  any 
other  needs  also  have  social  value,  may,  indeed,  be  chiefly  social 
in  their  character.  It  is  very  easy  for  the  person  who  has  an 
abundant  income  to  fall  into  casuistry  in  deciding  upon  an  expen- 
diture for  consumption;  for  extravagant  and  aristocratic  con- 
sumption includes  food,  clothing,  shelter,  books,  pictures,  ser- 
mons, songs — the  very  classes  of  utilities  which  in  other  forms 
may  be  regarded  as  thoroughly  social,  that  is,  democratic.  In 
general,  it  may  be  said  that  sociaHzed  consumption  includes 
those  goods  and  services  which,  without  inducing  manifestly 
pathological  conditions,  may  be  shared  with  the  largest  number 
of  our  fellow-men ;  or,  if  not  immediately  appreciated  or  attainable 
by  them,  are  not  so  remote  from  their  present  consumption  as  to 
be  beyond  their  possible  tastes  or  hopes.  This  does  not  mean  a 
dead-level  of  consumption,  or  the  impossibihty  of  certain  persons 
setting  the  pace  for  the  rest  of  society,  but  it  would  preclude 
the  private  palace  when  the  masses  could  have  nothing  better 
than  hovels.  So,  bread  is  more  social  than  canaries'  tongues, 
beer  than  champagne,  woolen  cloth  than  sealskins,  a  pubhc  art 
gallery  than  a  private  collection. 

As  contrasted  with  that  of  any  previous  society,  our  consump- 
tion is  pre-eminently  social.  Our  production  has  a  variety  and 
richness  never  attained  by  that  of  any  other  society.  Not  only 
are  the  common  necessaries  of  life  produced  in  great  quantities, 
but  those  intended  only  for  the  wealthy  are  of  relative  unimpor- 
tance. Not  only  do  most  great  capitalists  turn  most  of  their 
income  into  capital,  but  they  employ  this  capital  in  producing 


354  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

Utilities  which  everybody  consumes.  Some  commodities  of 
barbaric  richness  are  produced,  but  between  these  and  the  com- 
monest goods  there  is  the  greatest  variety  of  products  running 
by  insensible  gradations  from  the  lowest  to  the  highest  points  on 
the  scale.  It  is  due  to  the  plentifulness  of  the  commoner  products 
that  our  laboring  population  enjoys  so  many  of  the  comforts  of 
life;  and  it  is  due  to  the  variety  and  quantity  of  the  intermediate 
products  that  they  may  advance  their  standards  of  living  so 
steadily.  The  increase  of  money  wages  by  strike  or  peaceful 
bargaining  would  be  of  no  advantage,  could  the  money  not  be 
turned  into  real  consumption  goods  of  so  many  varieties  and 
grades. 

It  will  be  remembered  that  throughout  this  essay  it  has  been 
held  that  the  freedom  of  the  laboring  masses  depends  upon  their 
abiUty  to  control  either  the  technique  or  the  product  of  their  labor, 
or  both.  Of  these  two  the  latter  is  the  more  important  in  the 
long  run.  The  former  is  usually  important  at  the  beginning  of 
a  new  stage  of  development,  because  it  frees  the  artisan  from 
past  control  and  gives  him  a  sort  of  monopoly  compensation  that 
carries  him  far  beyond  his  former  station  and  enables  him  to 
adopt  a  new  standard  of  living  from  which  it  is  difficult  to  drag 
him.  This  improvement  belongs  to  a  particular  class  of  workmen 
at  a  particular  time.  It  can  not  be  universal,  though  it  may  be 
so  widespread  that  a  very  large  number  of  laborers  may  be  raised 
at  the  same  time.  It  is  not  democratic,  but  may  result  in  the 
formation  of  so  many  new  aristocracies  that  aristocracy  itself  is 
cheapened.  But  every  technique  tends  to  become  common  prop- 
erty, in  spite  of  restrictive  measures;  and  efforts  to  retain  control 
of  it  by  artificial  apprenticeship  rules  can  not  be  permanently 
successful.  The  best  that  can  be  done  by  the  labor  association 
is  to  keep  such  a  control  of  the  conditions  of  their  trade  as  to 
prevent  sudden  inundations  of  new  hands  and  temporary  dis- 
turbances of  the  labor  market.  Efforts  to  enforce  further  restric- 
tions at  the  present  time  are  of  little  avail,  and  no  technique  can 
long  be  monopoUzed  by  a  few  under  modem  conditions  of  indus- 
try.    In  the  end,  workmen  must  expect  to  see  new  recruits  enter 


SOCIAL  MOVEMENTS  OF  TODAY  355 

their  ranks,  in  part  causing  an  expansion  of  the  industry,  in  part 
cutting  down  the  exceptional  money  wages  of  those  who  formerly 
controlled  the  field. 

The  control  of  the  product  of  labor,  on  the  other  hand,  can  be 
retained,  if  the  commodities  consumed  by  the  laborer  remain 
plentiful;  and  as  they  become  more  plentiful  and  as  other  con- 
sumable goods  but  little  in  advance  of  his  existing  standards  are 
likewise  plentiful,  his  real  wages  are  pretty  sure  to  rise.  The 
product,  in  the  sense  here  intended,  is  the  value  created  by  the 
laborer.  In  our  times  the  laborer  has  kept  or  extended  his  con- 
trol over  this  value  through  the  character  of  our  general  consump- 
tion, rather  than  through  his  control  of  money  wages  by  associated 
effort.  Wages  have  tended  to  rise  and  prices  to  fall;  and  the 
abundant  stimuli  to  an  improvement  of  the  standards  of  living 
have  prevented  an  undue  increase  in  the  size  of  laborers'  families 
during  times  of  prosperity.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  our  industrial 
development  has  been  of  such  a  character  that  the  consumption 
of  the  masses  has  been  the  chief  stimulus  to  production.  The 
most  important  improvements  are  such  as  cheapen  the  products 
consumed  by  the  laborer;  the  next,  those  consumed  by  the  middle 
class;  those  which  cheapen  the  products  used  by  the  rich  have 
not  been  numerous. 

Nearly  all  the  large  improvements  in  modem  industry  have  depended 
for  their  success  upon  the  creation  of  a  wide  market,  appealing  not  only  to 
those  who  have  accumulated  large  fortunes,  but  to  those  who  live  more  or 
less  prosperously  on  the  results  of  their  labor.  Under  these  circumstances 
we  find  an  active  competition  both  for  the  services  of  the  laborer  as  a  producer 
and  for  the  money  of  the  laborer  as  a  consimier;  especially  the  latter.^ 

Producers  in  general  are  quite  as  much  interested  in  the  increase 
of  the  spending -power  of  laborers  as  particular  producers  are 
interested  in  reducing  their  labor  costs.  In  so  far  as  consumption 
guides  production  in  this  direction,  the  rich  find  themselves  com- 
pelled to  turn  back  their  surplus  incomes  into  productive  enter- 
prises which  satisfy  the  demands  of  the  poor. 

Now,  while  consumption  has  become  so  generally  democratic, 

» Hadley,  Economics,  320. 


356  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

as  compared  with  that  of  previous  societies,  there  is  still  room 
for  improvement.  A  growing  tendency  among  the  wealthy  toward 
the  indulgence  in  decadent  luxuries  and  the  employment  of  lack- 
eys, imitated  more  or  less  by  the  middle  class,  and  the  over- 
crowding of  clerical  and  professional  ranks  by  persons  who  might 
better  be  producers  of  commodities,  are  sufficient  evidence  that 
consumption  is  not  wholly  socialized.  A  close  analysis  of  our 
expenditures  shows  that  a  large  proportion  goes  for  things  whose 
real  usefulness  for  furthering  and  broadening  life  may  well  be 
questioned.*  Whether  there  is  a  field  here  for  conscious  reform 
may  be  doubted,  but  it  is  a  field  worthy  of  reform  effort.^  The 
chief  hope  is  in  the  development  of  higher  ideals  through  the 
efforts  of  those  who  serve  as  pubhc  teachers  and  examples.  It 
may  be  brought  about  to  some  extent  by  the  action  of  the  State. 
Sumptuary  legislation  is  not  at  present  a  popular  device,  and  it 
is  liable  to  great  abuse;  but  a  tax  upon  extra-unsocial  consump- 
tion might  be  levied  with  advantage  to  society  as  a  whole,  and 
the  democracy  may  be  depended  upon  to  adopt  such  a  measure 
if  ever  it  awakens  to  its  possibilities.  Sumptuary  laws  were  a 
failure  in  the  Italian  republics  because  they  were  criminal  processes 
against  those  who  indulged  in  luxuries  at  home,  while  the  most 
profitable  industries  were  those  which  supplied  foreigners  with 
the  condemned  articles.  But  since  our  legitimate  consumption 
would  stiU  be  so  large,  there  would  be  relatively  little  difficulty 
in  enforcing  a  law  levying  a  tax  on  the  production  or  the  home 
consumption  of  unreasonable  luxuries.  In  general,  however,  the 
greater  profitableness  of  the  industries  which  supply  a  wide 
demand  may  be  depended  upon  to  prevent  the  diversion  of  any 
considerable  proportion  of  the  capital  and  labor  of  modem  society 
to  the  production  of  luxuries  for  the  few. 

As  we  have  seen  above,  the  demand  for  more  direct  social 
control  of  production  has  been  chiefly  in  the  interest  of  a  more 
equitable  system  of  distribution.  Yet  there  is  a  growing  demand 
that  the  service  or  supply  of  public  wants  be  furnished  efficiently 

»  Cf.  Veblen,  The  Theory  of  the  Leisure  Class,  especially  chaps,  iv-vii. 
»  Cf.  Smart,  op.  cit.,  263  ff;   Hobson,  op.  cit.,  368  ff. 


SOCIAL  MOVEMENTS  OF  TODAY  357 

and  at  the  lowest  possible  cost.  Aside  from  the  regulation  of  the 
sanitary  condition  of  workshops  and  of  the  conditions  of  employ- 
ment of  the  wards  of  the  State,  aside  from  attempts  to  promote 
harmonious  relations  between  employers  and  workmen,  there  is 
a  real  interest  in  the  regulation  of  the  supply  and  the  price  of  the 
more  important  utilities.  Where  competition  seems  effective, 
there  is  a  disposition  to  trust  it  to  bring  about  satisfactory  results. 
Where  competition  seems  to  be  absent,  there  is  a  demand  for 
some  form  of  public  regulation.  The  removal  of  special  tariff 
and  patent  protection,  the  enforcement  of  just  laws  governing 
common  carriers,  the  extension  of  the  common  carrier  legal  prin- 
ciples to  include  all  monopoly  production  for  interstate  commerce 
to  the  end  that  a  common  price  may  be  fixed  for  the  same  article 
in  all  parts  of  the  United  States,*  the  enforcement  of  publicity  of 
those  affairs  of  such  producers  as  are  of  public  interest,  and 
perhaps  such  an  income  tax  as  would  discourage  exorbitant 
charges*  —  these  are  measures  which  would  probably  prevent 
exploitation  of  the  public.  The  public  is  disposed  to  attempt  to 
enforce  some  kind  of  competition  to  safeguard  its  interests,  but 
it  may  well  be  doubted  whether  the  present  tendency  toward  the 
formation  of  great  industries  can,  or  should,  be  withstood.  In 
none  of  this  discussion  is  there  a  suggestion  that  the  character  of 
production  should  be  determined  by  public  authority  in  the  interest 
of  rational  consumption.  The  education  of  the  taste  of  the  indi- 
vidual and  the  economic  relation  of  supply  to  demand  are  probably 
the  only  forces  that  will  ever  be  depended  upon  for  this  purpose. 
This  discussion  has  suggested  the  apparent  tendencies  and 
possibilities  of  the  economic  movement  of  the  present  time.  Two 
other  economic  problems  remain :  the  disposition  of  the  unearned 
increment  on  land,  and  the  treatment  of  those  who  perform  no 
social  function.  The  former  of  these  requires  no  consideration 
here,  in  view  of  the  general  acceptance  of  the  possibilities  of  some 
form  of  the  "Single  Tax,"  should  action  become  necessary.    At 

I  Cf.  Clark,  "Disarming  the  Trusts,"  Atlantic  Monthly,  LXXXV,  47-53- 
»  A  further  statement  of  my  views  on  this  subject  will  be  found  in  my  article 
on  "The  Control  of  Trusts,"  American  Journal  of  Sociology,  V,  228-45. 


3S8  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

present  there  is  little  social  interest  in  the  evils  of  individual  appro- 
priation of  the  unearned  increment,  partly  because  the  frequent 
transfers  of  land  have  left  much  of  it  in  the  hands  of  persons  who 
receive  no  unearned  increment,  partly  because  of  the  plentifulness 
of  land,  especially  in  the  new^er  countries,  partly  because  of  the 
solid  social  advantages  that  have  been  secured  through  private 
property  in  land.  The  other  problem,  the  treatment  of  the  idle, 
may  not  be  entirely  soluble.  That  portion  of  the  idle  class  which 
belongs  to  the  social  residuum  can  be  reasonably  well  handled 
by  scientific  philanthropy  when  public  interest  shall  have  been 
aroused.  The  residuum  is  a  portion  of  the  race  which  can  never 
be  expected  to  perform  genuine  social  service  or  enjoy  a  normal 
social  life.  In  any  consideration  of  social  evolution  this  class 
must  be  disregarded,  save  as  some  of  its  members  may  be 
redeemed,  or  as  repressive  or  charitable  measures  are  adopted 
with  reference  to  the  rest.  The  other  idle  class  belongs  to  the 
other  extreme  of  the  social  scale.  It  is  not  necessary  that  those 
who  receive  large  incomes  from  invested  capital  should  engage 
in  actual  industrial  activities,  but  it  may  reasonably  be  demanded 
that  they  should  render  some  real  social  service  in  proportion  to 
the  goods  they  consume.  Without  this  the  bond-clipper  is  a 
parasite.  The  remedy  for  this  evil — which  is  not  yet  of  large 
proportions — can  probably  be  found  only  in  the  development  of 
ethical  ideals  inconsistent  with  idleness.^ 

This  long  economic  discussion  has  shown  how  completely  society 
has  organized  its  system  of  means.  The  concrete  suggestions  for 
the  more  complete  socialization  of  the  economic  system  may  be  of 
little  value ;  but  it  is  claimed  that  the  general  description  and  the 
statement  of  present  tendencies  are  practically  accurate,  and  that 
they  justify  the  thesis  that  the  integration  of  society  has  proceeded 
so  far  that  the  interests  of  the  individual  and  of  the  whole  have  be- 
come essentially  identical.  The  social-economic  system  is  neither 
individualistic  nor  collectivistic :  it  is  organic.  It  is  a  system  of 
means  through  which  society  functions  with  reference  to  its  ends 
— a  system  in  which  individuals  and  institutions  are  truly  organs 

»  Paulsen,  A  System  of  Ethics,  533-36. 


SOCIAL  MOVEMENTS  OF  TODAY  359 

of  society  and  through  which  all  the  values  of  society  are  focused 
in  the  individual.  It  is  not  without  its  imperfections,  but  these 
are  of  minor  importance  when  viewed  in  the  light  of  the  whole. 

The  structure  which  society  has  formed  for  the  adaptation  of 
means  to  ends  is  democratic.  Many  political  problems  await 
solution.  Nationalism  is  a  strong  force  in  the  world,  and  is  not 
without  its  value  in  developing  variety  and  richness  for  the  whole 
social  life.  Neither  is  it  without  its  evils  in  raising  artificial 
barriers  between  communities  that  are  essentially  one  and  in  causing 
conflicts  among  men  who  are  essentially  brethren.  The  chief 
cause  of  strife  is  over  the  methods  of  bringing  outlying  and 
probably  unassimilable  portions  of  the  world  under  the  control  of 
civilized  society.  Nobody  believes  that  a  perfectly  harmonious 
pohtical  system  will  soon  be  developed.  Yet  it  is  very  patent 
that  democracy  is  bound  to  control  every  state;  that  democracy, 
when  it  knows  its  interests,  is  bound  to  desire  peace ;  that  social 
ideals  and  economic  interest  are  bound  to  promote  peace  and  har- 
mony among  the  nations ;  that,  on  the  whole,  dynastic  and  purely 
political  ends  can  no  longer  permanently  determine  social  action; 
that  the  most  intense  national  spirit  can  not  permanently  prevent 
the  co-operation  of  peoples  whose  interests  are  essentially  the  same ; 
that,  finally,  the  democracy  which  is  the  product  of  modem  indus- 
trial influences  is  essentially  social,  co-operative,  not  anarchistic. 

SOCIAL  IDEALS 

Leaving,  then,  the  consideration  of  the  political  and  economic 
phases  of  social  life,  it  only  remains  to  observe,  in  closing,  the 
nature  of  the  present  social  ends  with  reference  to  which  these 
means  are  employed.  Since  the  age  of  Descartes  and  Hobbes, 
the  ideals  which  had  come  down  from  the  Graeco-Roman  world 
and  which  had  so  long  guided  the  social  activities  of  Christendom 
have  been  virtually  cast  aside.  The  individual  was  freed  from 
authority  when  those  ideals  were  exhausted.  From  that  time  to 
the  present  the  ideals  of  society  have  been  developed  in  the  process 
of  social  life  itself.  Necessarily,  progress  could  not  be  as  orderly 
and  systematic  as  when  it  consisted  in  attempting  to  conform  to 


360  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

the  given  ideals.  The  individual  was  freed,  but  he  had  so  much 
to  do  that  the  problem  of  method  became  of  supreme  importance. 
This,  first  stated  in  theoretical  terms  by  Descartes,  has  been 
worked  out  in  a  practical  way  amidst  all  the  changes  of  commer- 
cial expansion,  national  organization,  revolution  of  governments, 
and  industrial  developments. 

In  this  modern  development  advance  has  been  chiefly  without 
great  comprehensive  social  ideals.  It  has  been  characterized 
neither  by  inherited  ideals  nor  by  a  conscious  effort  to  project 
ideals  for  the  guidance  of  the  whole  social  life.  As  we  have  already 
shown,'  the  ends  of  social  endeavor  were,  during  the  period  which 
was  marked  by  the  decay  of  the  feudal  system,  either  the  political 
organization,  as  with  the  national  politicians,  or  possessive  wealth, 
as  with  the  merchant  burghers.  The  statesmen  used  industry  as  a 
means  to  their  end,  while  the  merchant  rulers  used  the  political 
organization  to  serve  purely  commercial  purposes.  The  two 
ends  might  sometimes  be  blended.  Now,  neither  of  these 
could  be  other  than  a  proximate  end  of  society.  The  real  ends 
of  society  had  to  be  something  more  ultimate  than  either.  The 
industrial  and  commercial  activity  can  but  serve  to  get  control 
of  means  by  which  to  attain  higher  social  ends;  the  political 
organization  can  be  but  the  structure  through  which  the  means 
can  be  adjusted  to  the  ends.  When  these  are  made  the  control- 
ing  ends  of  social  activity,  certain  great  accomplishments  may 
result,  but  in  time  they  lose  their  vital  force  and  undue  friction, 
or  even  disintegration,  ensues.  Social  action  becomes  blind  and 
haphazard. 

Yet  in  spite  of  this  blindness  in  social  action,  we  have  seen 
that  a  very  real  social  integration  has  been  accomplished.  The 
reason  of  this  is  that  society  is  organic :  it  has  a  life  which  develops 
according  to  its  own  inner  laws.  Opportunism,  haphazard 
efforts,  may  not  produce  the  very  best  results.  They  may  even 
lead  to  disaster.  They  may  lead  to  social  suicide,  as,  perhaps, 
through  the  religious  persecutions  in  Spain;  as  they  bade  fair  to 
do  in  the  case  of  France  after  the  revocation  of  the  Edict  of  Nantes 

I  Vide  supra,  273,  274. 


SOCIAL  MOVEMENTS  OF  TODAY  361 

and  again  in  the  revolutionary  period.  But  barring  the  great 
catastrophes  which  only  conscious  self-guidance  can  avoid,  a 
society  full  of  lusty  vigor  and  equipped  by  the  appropriation  of 
the  most  vital  elements  of  the  great  civilizations  of  the  past  might 
be  expected  to  live  and  grow  according  to  the  law  of  its  own  being, 
and  in  its  development  to  cast  out  the  unassimilable  elements  which 
it  had  taken  up  in  its  blindness.  An  undirected  activity  has  not 
prevented  the  integration  we  have  described.  This,  however,  is 
not  the  ideal  method  of  action  for  any  organization  capable  of 
self-consciousness.  There  is  an  ever-present  danger  which 
increases  with  the  increasing  complexity  of  the  organism,  not 
only  that  the  social  life  will  not  be  of  the  highest  possible  sort,  but 
that  it  may  disintegrate  again  under  some  of  the  tendencies  toward 
degeneracy  which  are  ever  present.  If  ever  there  has  been  need 
of  scientific  social  guidance,  it  is  at  the  present  time.  No  better 
evidence  of  this  is  needed  than  the  many  instances  of  friction 
which  have  been  described  above  as  connected  with  the  very 
social  movements  which,  it  was  claimed,  are  in  the  main  in  the 
right  direction.  Present  tendencies  may  be  trusted  to  work  out 
the  best  results  in  the  long  run,  provided  the  inharmonious  minor 
movements  do  not  gather  such  force  that  the  whole  structure  will 
be  shattered.  While,  therefore,  the  results  of  social  development 
are  sufficient  evidence  of  the  vigorous  organic  life,  there  is  every 
reason  for  discarding  the  empirical  methods  which  have  worked 
such  good  results  in  so  many  instances,  and  for  making  a  serious 
endeavor  to  discover  the  principles  on  which  the  social  life  may 
be  guided  to  still  higher  attainments.  If  these  can  be  given 
scientific  statement,  they  will  eventually  be  taken  up  by  the  social 
consciousness.  It  was  necessary  for  the  ancient  societies  to  die 
before  the  principles  of  their  civilizations  could  be  abstracted 
and  used  as  ideals.  Modern  society  is  more  vigorous  than  any 
older  one;  and  it  has  devised  a  scientific  method  which  should 
enable  it  to  learn  the  law  of  its  own  being.  Empirical  methods 
may  be  carried  to  a  high  degree  of  perfection;  indeed,  must  be, 
before  science  can  arise;  but  there  is  serious  danger  of  retrogres- 
sion in  social  organization  unless  scientific  methods  are  discovered 


362  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

and  applied.  Modern  society  needs  a  ruling  ideal,  and  this  ideal 
must  be  the  embodiment  of  the  principles  underlying  the  social 
life  itself.  The  two  proximate  ends  above  mentioned  are  still 
in  use  as  the  ultimate  ends  of  social  endeavor.  Different  classes, 
or  all  classes  at  different  times,  are  controlled  by  one  or  the  other 
of  these  ideals;  whereas  the  true  end  of  social  endeavor  must  be 
something  other  than  either  possessive  wealth  or  the  political 
mechanism.  There  is  need  of  a  science  of  social  telics^  to  aid 
society  to  the  acceptance  of  a  comprehensive  ideal  that  can  guide 
its  activity  as  the  ideals  of  the  Holy  Roman  Empire  did  in  the 
Middle  Ages. 

Fortunately,  this  unconscious  social  development  has  evolved 
in  its  own  processes  the  method  by  which  its  future  ideals  may 
be  projected.  Men's  thinking  has  been  reduced  to  a  certain 
scientific  order  by  the  social  movement.  This  was  true  to  a 
certain  extent  of  the  earlier  scientific  conceptions,  and  it  is  true 
in  a  marked  degree  in  the  case  of  the  scientific  development  of 
the  last  century.  The  Industrial  Revolution  made  it  necessary 
for  men,  especially  when  they  had  charge  of  large  industries,  to 
look  facts  in  the  face  and  to  guide  their  actions  accordingly.  Man 
had  to  adapt  himself  to  a  large  physical  environment.  The 
industrial  life  was  falKng  into  the  form  of  wide  physical  causation. 
Man  could  choose  only  which  of  several  forces  should  be  allowed 
to  work  themselves  out  in  his  service;  he  no  longer  thought  of 
creating  forces.  This  change  in  the  life  of  society  necessarily 
had  a  great  influence  over  men's  systems  of  thought.  Previously, 
the  personal  relation  had  constituted  almost  the  whole  order  of 
society.  The  change  of  view  in  the  industrial  sphere  forced  men 
to  think  differently  in  all  departments  of  life,  since  life  itself  is  a 
unity.  So,  men  have  been  insisting  on  introducing  the  idea  of 
causation  in  the  explanation  of  everything:  they  have  not  been 
satisfied  except  in  so  far  as  they  have  been  able  to  bring  their 
observations  under  the  categories  of  the  conservation  of  energy. 
The  adoption  of  the  machine  has  in  every  community  preceded 

»  A  term  suggested  by  Ward  and  most  fully  discussed  in  his  last  book,  Pure 
Sociology. 


SOCIAL  MOVEMENTS  OF  TODAY  363 

the  progress  of  science.  The  French  continued  longer  to  specu- 
late upon  the  affairs  which  the  EngHsh  treated  scientifically. 
Since  the  middle  of  the  nineteenth  century,  there  has  been  a 
growing  dissatisfaction  with  the  explanation  of  the  world  or 
society  on  the  grounds  of  logical  congruity  or  symmetry  and  order. 
All  phenomena  are  now  judged  from  this  point  of  view  of  causa- 
tion. Beginning  with  Robert  Owen,  who  held  that  the  facts  of 
the  industrial  world  shape  men's  thoughts  and  that  these  thoughts 
shape  the  social  structure,  the  test  of  quantitative  causation  has 
been  more  and  more  widely  apphed,  until  it  has  been  carried  into 
the  spheres  of  psychology  and  sociology,  and  even  theology  is  now 
approached  from  the  anthropological  side.  Since  men  must 
think  in  a  unity,  when  the  industrial  life  had  forced  them  to  think 
in  a  certain  way  regarding  that  side  of  their  activities,  they  were 
forced  to  think  in  the  same  way  regarding  the  whole  universe. 

The  culmination  of  the  English  scientific  movement  was  the 
doctrine  of  evolution,  which  banishes  every  remnant  of  animism 
from  all  explanations  of  the  world  except  those  of  the  most 
remotely  metaphysical  sort.  From  another  social  influence, 
namely,  the  feehng  after  a  social  solidarity  after  the  Napoleonic 
wars  had  caused  a  break  in  the  social  consciousness  of  Continental 
peoples,  the  general  organic  view  of  Hegel  and  the  sociological 
method  of  Comte  were  derived.  These,  worked  over  from  the 
English  scientific  point  of  view,  have  given  direction  to  all  modem 
thought.  Thus,  the  conception  of  an  orderly  evolution  proceeding 
wholly  according  to  natural  laws  has  been  appUed  to  the  explana- 
tion of  all  phenomena  of  the  world  and  of  society.  Thus,  the 
social  evolution  itself  has  provided  a  method  for  the  explanation 
of  itself. 

It  is  in  the  use  of  this  scientific  method  that  we  may  expect  to 
arrive  at  the  formulation  of  the  ends  which  should  guide  social 
action.  The  latest  of  all  the  sciences,  sociology,  nevertheless 
appears  as  the  most  important,  because  the  problem  set  for  its 
solution  is  of  such  tremendous  importance;  yet  the  social  conscious, 
ness  may  arrive  at  a  conception  of  the  true  social  ends  without 
the  assistance  of  any  of  the  disciplines  of  the  schools.    It  is  not 


364  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

yet  possible  to  give  definite  statement  to  that  ideal  which  society 
needs  to  bring  its  activity  to  more  orderiy  progress ;  but  its  general 
outlines  begin  to  appear.  There  can  be  little  doubt  that  the  end 
which  shall  give  rational  guidance  to  the  social  life  will  be  a  for- 
mulation of  the  ideal  social  organism.  This  will  not  be  a  crude 
biological  analogy  or  picture,  though  that  may  have  been  of  some 
service  in  the  development  of  sociological  thought,  but  will  be  a 
conception  of  social  relations  so  fundamental  that  the  individual 
will  appear  both  as  a  social  unit  and  as  a  social  product.  The 
nature  of  society  should  be  so  clearly  stated  that  the  general 
elements  of  social  welfare  shall  be  as  universally  recognized  as 
the  place  of  the  Church  was  in  an  earlier  period.  It  must  be 
recognized  that  the  social  ends  will  be  attained  through  the 
functional  activity  of  all  individuals;  and  that  all  of  the  values  of 
society  will  be  poured  into  every  individual  life.  This  will  be  the 
scientific  reconstruction  of  the  Christian  conception  of  the  value 
of  the  individual  and  of  the  identity  of  the  interests  of  the  indi- 
vidual and  of  society.  This  end,  the  ideal  social  organism,  having 
been  formulated  as  a  working  -  guide,  economic  activity  and 
political  activity  would  drop  into  their  duly  subordinated  places. 
The  future  would  rule  the  present  as  completely  as  the  past  once 
did.^  Western  civilization,  having  reached  its  maturity,  still 
shows  no  signs  of  decay.  Other  peoples  believed  that  their  past 
would  continue;  we  believe  that  we  are  moving  toward  a  better 
future.  Let  this  belief  in  the  continuance  of  evolution  broaden 
into  an  adequate  conception  of  its  ideal  outcome,  and  the  special 
sciences  and  the  arts  of  social  life,  reconstructed  on  the  basis  of 
this  wider  generalization,  will  guide  the  details  of  social  activity 
in  such  manner  that,  without  introducing  a  frictionless  Utopia,  the 
steady  progress  of  the  unfolding  conscious  social  hfe  will  be  assured. 
Modem  thought  must  always  be  characterized  by  procedure 
from  the  particular  to  the  universal.  External  standards  can 
never  again  guide  social  action.  Nevertheless,  standards  are 
evolved  in  the  process  itself;  and  there  is  no  reason  why  Science 
may  not  be  of  assistance  in  the  projection  of  ruling  ideals  that 
can  guide  the  whole  social  life. 

»  Cf.  Kidd,  Principles  of  Western  Civilization,  344,  345. 


APPENDIX 
METHOD  AND  SCOPE  OF  INQUIRY 

When  the  student  of  sociology  goes  to  work  in  earnest  upon 
any  important  problem,  certain  difl5culties  are  brought  painfully 
to  his  consciousness.  Realizing  the  importance  of  facts  upon 
which  to  base  vahd  generalizations,  he  yet  finds  it  exceedingly 
diflficult  to  obtain  them,  even  in  this  scientific  age.  In  the  next 
place,  the  complexity  of  the  phenomena  with  which  he  must  deal 
almost  bafiles  generaUzation,  even  when  the  facts  are  obtainable. 
And  finally,  while  there  is  a  manifest  interrelation  of  the  groups 
of  facts  with  which  the  various  social  sciences  deal,  the  division 
of  labor  among  the  latter  is  so  incompletely  carried  out  that  the 
person  who  desires  to  view  the  whole  field  finds  many  gaps  which 
he  must  himself  fill  before  he  can  proceed  with  his  own  line  of  in- 
vestigation. 

THE  RELATION  OF  FACT  TO  INTERPRETATION 

Students  are  becoming  more  and  more  convinced  that  the  first 
need — facts  which  may  be  used  as  a  basis  for  conclusions — must 
be  met  before  genuine  progress  can  be  made  in  generaUzation  or 
in  the  framing  of  social  programs.  But  this  demand  for  facts,  for 
a  collection  of  data  to  be  drawn  upon  when  the  social  philosopher 
desires  to  formulate  a  principle  or  frame  a  poHcy — in  short,  for  a 
"Descriptive  Sociology" — has  not  been  satisfied;  and  it  may  be 
questioned  whether  it  can  be  satisfied.  It  is  almost  inconceivable 
that  facts,  as  mere  fads,  ever  can  be  collected  in  such  shape  as  to 
be  of  any  particular  value  for  generahzation.  It  is  true  that  the 
mere  collector  of  information  may  be  useful  as  a  statistical  ques- 
tioner or  a  copying  hack  under  the  direction  of  the  actual  inves- 
tigator; but  his  usefulness  in  that  capacity  consists  in  faithfully 
following  the  clews  given  to  him  by  his  superior — unless,  indeed, 
he  discovers  a  new  clew  and  becomes  something  more  than  a 
mere  collector.  The  starting-point  for  every  investigation  must 
be  some  sort  of  an  hypothesis;   otherwise,  it  will  result  in  a  mere 

365 


366  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

unclassified  catalogue  of  as  many  things  in  the  universe  as  the 
investigator  may  find  time  to  set  down.  This  working  hypothesis 
which  determines  the  field  of  investigation  is  itself  determined  by 
the  attention  of  the  investigator.  Its  value  as  a  clew,  therefore, 
depends  upon  the  vital  relation  of  the  investigator  to  the  real 
social  movements  of  his  time.  For  if  the  social  life  is  organic,  it 
will  doubtless  reveal  something  of  its  real  meaning  in  any  of  its 
manifestations,  and  will  also  recapitulate,  though  perhaps  in 
shadowy  form,  many  of  the  essential  characteristics  of  its  own 
past.  Hence  the  poet  may  receive  an  inspiration  to  interpret 
that  life  in  terms  of  feeling,  and  the  student  may  find  clews 
which  lead  to  fruitful  results  in  the  attempt  to  give  a  systematic 
statement  of  the  nature  of  social  life.  — 

If  it  is  psychologically  true  that  the  iiiyestigator's  attention 
determines  the  field  of  observation,  the  facts  needed  for  a  given 
study  can  be  secured  by  no  one  but  the  student  himself.     If  he 
goes  over  ground  which  has  already  been  covered,  his  duty  may 
be  simply  the  testing  and  analyzing  of  facts  already  secured  by 
others  whose  general  point  of  view  was  much  the  same  as  his  own. 
If  he  goes  over  the  ground  which  investigators  in  various  depart- 
ments have  touched  upon,  he  may  gather  up  facts  that  had  been 
used  for  other  purposes;    but  he  must  here  cull  them  out  from 
others  for  which  he  has  no  use,  and  usually  he  must  re-examine 
them.     If  he  goes  over  ground  which  has  never  been  covered  be- 
fore, he  may  be  assisted  by  observers  who  have  no  interest  in  his 
ultimate  purpose;  but  here  he  must  organize  the  plan  of  work  him- 
self and  use  his  assistants  as  little  more  than  unskilled  laborers. 
Where  the  work  to  be  done  by  such  assistants  involves  the  search 
for  facts  amongst  which  the  variable  elements  are  more  important 
than  the  common,  the  recorder  of  the  facts  is  likely  to  neglect 
the  former  and  thus  make  the  latter  meaningless.     Where,  as  is 
usually  the  case,  the  guiding  hypothesis  needs  to  be  reconstructed 
at  every  step,  the  assistant  who  is  but  a  describer  will,  of  course, 
fail  to  see  the  change  which  the  course  of  the  investigation  should 
take  and  will  therefore  neglect  to  report  some  of  the  most  impor- 
tant facts  which  have  come  before  him.     Only  where  the  simple 


METHOD  AND  SCOPE  OF  INQUIRY  367 

answers  to  inquiries  which  have  been  carefully  planned  by  the 
statistician  who  knows  what  he  wants  are  gathered  by  the  assis- 
tant,  or  where  the  latter  ha,5  merely  to  copy  the  statements  laid 
before  him,  can  the  work  of  description  be  carried  on  profitably 
independent  of  the  work  of  generalization. 

Works  which  have  been  produced  by  the  author's  arrange- 
ment of  materials  collected  by  assistants  have  usually  shown 
serious  defects.^  Even  the  trained  investigators  in  a  university 
seminary,  whose  general  point  of  view  is  so  nearly  that  of  their 
instructor,  find  it  almost  impossible  to  operate  in  genuine  collabo- 
ration, unless  their  problem  is  definitely  set  for  them  and  the 
specific  facts  are  simply  to  be  gathered  where  they  are  told  to 
look  for  them. 

If  the  above  statements  are  correct,  it  follows  that  there  can 
never  be  a  descriptive  sociology  apart  from  some  sort  of  a  social 
philosophy.  If  one  should  be  built  up,  it  would  have  to  be  torn 
down  by  the  first  student  who  might  have  occasion  to  use  it, 
and  he  would  also,  doubtless,  have  to  go  beyond  the  debris  for 
much  of  the  material  needed.  Probably  no  one  has  ever  made 
use  of  Spencer's  monumental  Descriptive  Sociology,  except  as  an 
illustration  of  a  certain  method  of  classification. 

The  importance  of  getting  actual  facts  upon  which  to  base  our 
conclusions  is  not  to  be  underestimated  on  account  of  what  has 
been  said  above;  but  the  possibility  of  finding  them  classified 
for  use,  or  of  finding  them  in  the  world  and  classifying  them  for 
our  own  use,  except  as  we  find  them  in  an  honest  endeavor  to  test 
the  hypotheses  which  have  come  to  us  in  the  development  of  our 
interest,  is  distinctly  denied.  It  is  important,  however,  to  remem- 
ber that  our  guiding  hypotheses  may  be  expected  to  undergo  re- 
construction at  every  stage  of  our  investigations;  and,  therefore, 
logically,  though  not  chronologically,  description  must  be  kept 
in  advance  of  interpretation.'     It  is  only  because  of  the  very  ap- 

I  E.  g.,  Bancroft's  histories  of  the  peoples  of  the  Pacific  slope.  Herbert 
Spencer  would  probably  have  drawn  fewer  concliisions  from  facts  that  have  a 
different  meaning  when  viewed  in  their  real  setting,  had  he  not  depended  upon 
secretaries  to  gather  his  data. 

a  "Our  general  rule  of  sociological  method,  therefore,  can  mean  no  more  than 


368  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

parent  discrepancy  between  the  actually  known  facts  and  the 
demands  of  our  present  scientific  methods  that  the  want  of  facts 
is  so  keenly  appreciated  by  the  investigator.^  Little  by  little,  as 
uniformity  of  purpose  directs  the  research  of  sociologists,  a  mass 
of  materials  will  be  accumulated  which  will  be  available  for  all. 
At  present,  fruitful  points  of  view  are  as  necessary  as  assured 
facts;    and  neither  can  be  obtained  without  the  other. 

Now  the  unfortunate  thing  is  not  so  much  that  the  student  of 
social  problems  finds  a  dearth  of  materials  upon  which  to  base 
conclusions,  thereby  rendering  his  progress  slow  and  his  generali- 
zations uncertain,  but  that  the  tendency  is  so  strong  to  hold  to  the 
original  hypothesis  and  to  search  only  for  facts  to  prove  it,  neglect- 
ing, or  remaining  blind  to,  those  which  either  contradict  the  origi- 
nal theory  or  render  its  reconstruction  necessary.  =• 

The  field  covered  by  the  preceding  study  renders  the  collection 
of  data  for  generalization  a  very  difficult  task,  and  there  is  always 
before  us  the  danger  that  some  important  facts  have  been  over- 
looked or  are  unobtainable,  and  that  our  conclusions  are  therefore 
uncertain.  But  if  our  working  hypothesis  is  sound  and  fruitful, 
and  if  the  statement  to  be  made  later  on  concerning  the  nature  of 
the  evidence  required  in  this  kind  of  an  investigation  is  justified, 
it  may  reasonably  be  expected  that  the  main  conclusions  reached 
are  valid. 

THE  COMPLEXITY   OF   SOCIAL   PHENOMENA 

The  second  difficulty  mentioned  above — the  difficulty  of  gen- 
eralization because  of  the  complexity  of  the  phenomena  involved 
— leads  to  another  unfortunate  tendency  among  students  of  so- 

this,  that  on  the  whole  those  investigations  in  which  deduction  plays  the  less  impor- 
tant part  should  precede  those  in  which  it  plays  the  more  important  part.  This 
rule  will  not  only  keep  description  and  history  in  advance  of  explanation,  it  will 
also  keep  description  in  advance  of  history — the  study  of  the  coexistences  in  social 
phenomena  in  advance  of  the  study  of  the  sequences." — Giddings,  The  Prin- 
ciples of  Sociology,  55. 

I  Cf.  Small,  "Static  and  Dynamic  Sociology,"  American  Journal  oj  Sociology, 
I,  201. 

»  A  conspicuous  example  of  this  is  Adams'  Law  of  Civilization  and  Decay, 
a  most  suggestive  work,  but  one  that  is  spoiled  by  the  rigidity  of  the  author's 
"purpose." 


METHOD  AND  SCOPE  OF  INQUIRY  369 

ciety,  namely,  the  tendency  to  lose  interest  in  the  real  meaning  of 
the  investigation  and  to  become  mere  collectors  of  facts  for  their 
own  sake.  The  interest  then  becomes  that  of  the  antiquarian 
rather  than  that  of  the  scientist.  Oppressed  by  the  magnitude 
of  the  task  of  studying  society,  it  seems  that  human  nature  tends 
to  one  or  the  other  of  two  extremes;  on  the  one  hand,  we  find 
mere  theorizers  who  are  satisfied  with  the  faintest  shadow  of  evi- 
dence, and  on  the  other,  mere  observers  who  are  swamped  by 
their  facts  and  do  not  attempt  to  come  to  generahzations.  The 
former  remain  with  the  universal,  but  do  not  justify  it;  the  latter 
with  the  particular,  but  do  not  bring  out  its  meaning.  The  for- 
mer wiU  manipulate  their  hypothesis,  working  it  over  chiefly  by 
the  help  of  the  imagination ;  the  latter  will  either  start  with  a  super- 
ficial problem  and  gather  superficial  facts  to  fit  it,  or  lose  sight  of 
the  real  problem  with  which  they  started  and  find  their  interest  in 
the  mere  collection  of  facts  which  are  only  superficially  related.^ 
Although  it  may  seem,  on  first  thought,  that  sociology  must 
suffer  most  from  lack  of  adequate  observation,  it  is  probably  true 
that  it  suffers  quite  as  much  from  failure  to  know  how  to  use  the 
facts  actually  possessed,  and  that  advance  in  description  and  in 
generalization  will  go  on  simultaneously.  A  just  conception  of 
the  problem  which  he  is  working  to  solve  is  as  important  an  ele- 
ment in  the  social  thinker's  equipment  as  is  his  indefatigable  zeal 
in  searching  for  data.  The  solution  of  the  more  specific  social 
problems,  then,  must  depend  upon  the  sifting  and  analyzing  of 
facts  from  the  point  of  view  of  a  sound  psychology  and  a  sound 
sociology.  We  have,  of  course,  no  guarantee  that  we  yet  possess 
either  of  these,  but  it  may  reasonably  be  assumed  that  certain 
fundamental  conclusions  of  both  of  these  disciplines  will  stand. 
This  may  seem  to  prepare  the  way  for  a  claim  that  an  a  priori 
method  is  valid.  And  it  does.  In  so  far  as  our  psychology  and 
sociology  have  been  truly  worked  out,  they  may  be  used  for  the 
interpretation  of  tendencies,  past,  present,  and  future,  and  re- 

I  For  a  statement  of  the  proper  balance  between  these  two  extremes,  vide 
Small,  "The  Sociologists'  Point  of  View,"  American  Journal  0}  Sociology,  III. 
145-70- 


37°  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

lieve  us  from  absolute  dependence  upon  the  concrete  facts,  except 
as  the  latter  are  needed  to  furnish  content.  But  neither  of  these 
disciplines  can  yet  claim  to  be  a  perfectly  developed  tool.  Per- 
haps neither  ever  can  be  perfected.  Certainly,  they  can  never  be, 
except  as  the  problems  are  worked  out ;  and  then  both  the  content 
and  the  form  will  have  been  mastered.  The  claim  for  them, 
then,  can  only  be  that  although  they  are  still  in  process  of  devel- 
opment, they  may  be  used  to  mark  out  the  general  lines  along 
which  an  inquiry  must  proceed;  and  that  their  aberrations  may 
be  expected  to  be  corrected  in  the  process  itself.  In  some  way 
or  other,  our  investigation,  if  it  is  to  have  any  value,  must  be 
guided  throughout  by  such  a  point  of  view,  and  must  have  as  its 
end  conclusions  rather  than  the  accumulation  of  facts. 

The  dependence  of  the  most  painstaking  students  upon  working 
hypotheses  which  arise  from  their  general  social  Weltanschauung 
and  the  correction  of  their  unconscious  bias  by  the  development 
of  the  social  consciousness,  is  illustrated  by  the  history  of  a  certain 
line  of  investigation  which  has  a  bearing  upon  the  foregoing  study. 
When  the  liberal  tendencies  in  political  action  were  in  danger  of 
being  checked  by  the  Restoration  in  France  and  the  Reaction  in 
Germany,  the  liberal  movement  found  relief  by  turning  away  from 
the  harsh  present  to  the  freedom  of  primitive  institutions,  and 
gave  expression  to  conceptions  of  the  fundamental  rights  of  man, 
avoiding  the  excesses  of  the  revolutionary  philosophy.  The  Mark 
theory  was  developed  under  these  circumstances,  and  held  sway 
so  long  as  the  agitation  for  manhood  suffrage  lasted.  But  as 
political  aspirations  were  realized  and  it  was  found  that  democracy 
was  full  of  imperfections,  men  became  willing  to  regard  their 
primitive  ancestors  as  very  much  lower  down  in  the  scale  of 
civilization  than  the  free  villagers  had  been  supposed  to  be.^ 
This  pressure  of  the  realities  of  social  life  into  the  consciousness 
of  students  was  reinforced  by  the  scientific  doctrine  of  develop- 
ment, until  today  only  the  most  biased  Germanist  holds  to 
the  Mark  theory  as  it  was  stated  by  Kemble  and  von  Maurer. 
Now  it  may  be  said  that  the  present  bias  under  which  students 
»  Andrews,  Tke  Old  English  Manor,  1-5. 


METHOD  AND  SCOPE  OF  INQUIRY  371 

are  working  must  vitiate  their  results  to  the  same  extent  to 
which  their  predecessors'  conclusions  were  found  defective. 
But  we  may  answer :  Whatever  the  defects  of  the  present  stand- 
point, it  can  not  but  be  more  adequate  than  any  that  has  pre- 
ceded it.  Not  only  have  we  a  more  highly  developed  social 
consciousness  growing  out  of  the  more  complete  interdependence 
of  men  in  society — a  condition  which  has  itself  grown  out  of  the 
social  situation  which  conditioned  the  earlier  social  consciousness; 
we  have  also  clearer  conceptions  of  the  method  of  all  life  as  they 
have  been  worked  out  by  the  biologists  and  psychologists.  Our 
hope,  then,  whatever  may  be  our  fidelity  as  observers  of  facts  or 
our  clearness  in  generalization,  must  be  chiefly  in  our  ability  to 
get  "the  sociologists'  point  of  view." 

THE    INTERRELATIONS    OF    THE    VARIOUS    SOCIAL    SCIENCES 

The  third  difficulty  mentioned  above — the  failure  of  the  special 
social  scientists  completely  to  cover  the  ground — is  partly  ex- 
plained by  the  foregoing.  The  man  whose  interest  is  wholly  in 
politics  will  necessarily  observe  only  those  phenomena  which  are 
distinctively  political,  and  will  study  these  only  in  their  pohtical 
aspects.  He  will  select  his  facts  with  reference  solely  to  their 
common  political  characteristics,  neglecting  the  differentia  which 
in  one  instance  constitute  a  political  fact  a  fact  for  economics  as 
well,  and  in  another  instance  constitute  it  a  fact  for  ethics  as  well. 
It  is  undoubtedly  true  that  every  fact  for  sociology  is  likewise  a 
fact  for  politics  and  economics  and  ethics  and  other  less  impor- 
tant social  sciences.  But  this  does  not  mean  that  when  the 
political  scientist,  the  economist,  the  ethical  philosopher,  etc., 
have  drawn  their .  conclusions,  the  sociologist  has  simply  to 
synthesize  their  results.  Before  sociology  can  become  a  synthesiz- 
ing science,  it  must  become  a  reconstructing  science.  These 
differentia,  which  the  special  interest  in  common  characteristics 
almost  certainly  causes  the  special  social  scientist  to  neglect, 
are  often  the  most  important  of  all.  The  common  elements, 
as  political,  ethical,  etc.,  concrete  and  definite  though  they  may 
be,  are  in  reality  but  abstractions,  and  are  valuable  only  as  indi- 


372  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

eating  a  certain  residuum  which  is  found  in  all  situations  and  which 
must  therefore  be  taken  account  of.  By  themselves,  these  ab- 
stractions can  not  justify  sound  conclusions.  The  most  abstract 
reasoner  is  one  who  rests  satisfied  with  the  common  concrete 
facts.  ^  The  important  thing  to  study  is  the  setting  of  the  facts 
which  thus  recur,  to  discover  at  what  stage  of  the  social  develop- 
inenfttTey  are  folind.  This  is  necessary  if  the  organic  point  of  view 
is  taken;  but  this  is  just  what  the  student  whose  interest  is  narrowed 
to  the  special  phases  of  the  phenomena  is  most  likely  to  neglect 
It  therefore  follows  that,  when  the  results  of  all  the  special  social 
sciences  are  put  together,  there  will  remain  numerous  gaps  which 
must  baffle  the  person  who  seeks  to  get  a  general  view  of  social 
phenomena  in  order  to  come  to  conclusions  concerning  the  method 
of  social  development.  It  is  not  sufficient  that  the  general  soci- 
ologist should  carry  on  his  investigations  within  the  fields  of  the 
special  social  sciences,  hunting  up  facts  which  have  been  neg- 
lected by  the  specialists  in  the  respective  fields:  the  very  facts 
which  have  been  considered  by  the  special  social  sciences  must 
be  re-examined  from  the  new  and  larger  point  of  view.  Nor  is 
it  sufficient  that  sociology  should  synthesize  the  results  of  the 
special  social  sciences:  those  sciences  themselves  must  be  recon- 
structed from  the  point  of  view  of  the  organic  relationships  exist- 
ing among  the  various  phenomena  with  which  they  deal.  The 
variable  elements  which  have  been  neglected  in  the  study  of  the 
facts  that  have  been  differentiated  and  catalogued  under  the  spe- 
cial sciences  are  frequently  the  very  phenomena  to  be  considered 
when  we  want  to  discover  where  those  catalogued  facts  them- 
selves belong  in  the  organism.  The  facts  have  lost  much  of  their 
value  by  being  detached  from  the  system  of  wjiich  they  are  a  part. 
This  naive  claim  of  sociology  to  reconstruct  the  special  social 
sciences  may  not  be  very  favorably  received;  but  in  order  to  un- 
derstand the  general  relations  of  the  social  forces  to  one  another, 
it  is  nevertheless  necessary  to  go  back  of  the  results  of  the  special 
social  sciences  both  to  deal  with  the  facts  upon  which  the  conclu- 

I  Cf.  Muirhead,  "Abstract  and  Practical  Ethics,"  American  Journal  of  Soci- 
ology, II,  341-57- 


METHOD  AND  SCOPE  OF  INQUIRY  373 

sions  of  the  respective  social  sciences  are  based,  and  to  rediscover 
the  neglected  variable  elements  which  reveal  the  unity  out  of  which 
those  sciences  have  been  difiFerentiated.  The  concepts  of  the 
special  social  sciences  were,  in  many  cases,  developed  before  the 
general  principles  of  evolution  and  the  organic  nature  of  society 
were  understood.  Those  concepts  may  be  very  useful,  though 
not  entirely  adequate,  for  the  purpose  of  criticizing  from  the 
larger  point  of  view  the  phenomena  now  distributed  among  the 
various  social  sciences;  and,  therefore,  valuable  investigation 
into  the  method  of  social  evolution  may  be  possible,  though  it 
can  not  be  final,  before  sociology  has  been  able  to  reconstruct 
the  special  sciences.  Indeed,  it  is  by  such  investigation  that  the 
reconstruction   will   be   wrought   out. 

THE  ORGANIC  NATURE   OF  SOCIETY 

The  point  of  view  that  will  be  found  most  fruitful  in  the  ex- 
amina,tion  of  diverse  social  phenomena  is  that  of  the  organic  na- 
ture of  society.  This  is  also  the  point  of  view  from  which  the 
special  disciplines  may  be  reconstructed  and  unified.  The  main 
interest  in  this  study,  however,  has  been  with  the  facts  of  social 
life,  rather  than  with  theories  about  those  facts.  These  facts 
have  been  regarded  as  having  aspects  which  differentiate  them  for 
the  three  main  special  disciplines — ethics,  dealing  with  the  ends 
of  social  life;  economics,  dealing  with  the  means;  politics,  dealing 
with  the  structure  through  which  the  means  are  adjusted  to  the 
ends.  Of  course,  these  sciences  as  here  defined  are  given  a 
wider  significance  than  the  conventional  one.  For  example, 
"structure"  is  to  be  distinguished  from  the  government,  or  even 
the  state,  which  represents  only  one  of  the  social  organs.  In  the 
preceding  pages  it  will  appear  that  the  social  structure  has  always 
been  much  wider  than  any  state.  The  tendency,  however,  has 
been  for  the  social  organization  to  express  itself  in  the  political 
organization  (in  the  narrower  sense).  To  that  extent  the  state 
represents  the  realization  of  the  social  ends  up  to  date.  Thus, 
the  feudal  organization  had  to  give  way  to  the  modem  state; 
and,  so  socialists  claim,  the  present  industrial  movement  will 


374  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

burst  the  modern  state  and  give  birth  to  a  more  natural  one. 
W^hether  this  more  generic  application  of  the  terms  "ethics," 
"economics,"  "politics"  is  justified  or  not,  there  are  such  generic 
aspects  of  social  facts.  These  must  be  recognized;  and  the  uni- 
fication of  these  special  sciences  must  involve  the  recognition  of 
the  larger  relations  of  the  phenomena  which  each  has  abstracted. 
When  we  regard  the  telic,  the  instrumental,  and  the  structural 
aspects  of  social  phenomena,  we  are  taking  the  organic  point  of 
view,  thus  unifying  the  sciences  which  deal  with  these  respective 
aspects  of  social  phenomena. 

By  "organic  point  of  view"  no  reference  is  intended  to  possible 
analogies  between  society  and  any  biological  organism.  Most 
of  the  criticisms  that  are  professedly  directed  against  the  "organic 
concept"  are  in  reality  criticisms  of  the  "biological  analogy." 
That  such  analogies  may  be  helpfully  used  as  aids  in  the  classifi- 
cation of  social  phenomena  is  not  here  denied,  but  they  have 
not  been  used  in  this  discussion.  Society  is  considered,  not  as 
like  an  organism,  but  as  being  an  organism.  In  applying  the 
term  to  society,  the  term  itself  must  be  reconstructed;  just  as  a 
concept  of  organic  relations  which  had  been  worked  out  with 
reference  to  vegetable  life  only  would  have  to  be  reconstructed 
and  made  more  general  when  applied  to  animal  life.  A  general- 
ized conception  of  "organism"  must  be  reached,  which  is  not 
limited  in  its  application  to  phenomena  of  vegetable  life,  or  of 
animal  life,  but  which,  while  helping  us  to  understand  these,  will 
also  enable  us  to  understand  the  more  complex  phenomena  of 
social  life.  The  following  is  such  a  generalized  definition  of  an 
organism :  It  is  a  whole  whose  parts  are  intrinsically  related  to  it 
and  which  gives  meaning  to  the  activity  of  all  its  parts;  whose 
development  is  from  within  and  is  maintained  through  the  continual 
interaction  of  all  the  parts;  and  whose  end  is  developed^  through 
the  activity  of  the  organism  itself.  In  the  process  of  organic 
development  there  is  a  correlative  specialization  and  interdepend- 

I  If  in  some  cases  the  end  seems  to  be  given  from  without,  it  is  nevertheless 
true  that  it  becomes  the  end  of  the  organism  only  as  it  is  assimilated  through  the 
activity  of  the  organism.  E.  g.,  the  end  of  European  society,  as  discussed  in  the 
following  pages. 


METHOD  AND  SCOPE  OF  INQUIRY  375 

ence  of  function;  and  the  unity  maintained  is  a  unity  of  function 
rather  than  of  mere  structure.^  The  objections  urged  against 
various  biological  analogies  do  not  hold  against  this  view  of 
society  as  an  organism. 

From  this  general  point  of  view  of  the  functional  relationship 
of  the  various  facts  of  social  life — facts  which  from  a  given  point 
of  view  may  be  termed  religious,  from  another  economic,  from 
another  political,  etc. — an  attempt  has  been  made  to  trace  the 
process  of  development  of  modern  society.  The  Church  was  not 
isolated,  to  be  regarded  as  an  institution  acting  under  a  divine 
command  to  convert  the  world  or  to  glorify  God;  it  was  re- 
garded as  an  organ  of  society,  differentiated  in  the  social  process 
itself,  and  having  its  activity  conditioned  by  the  general  social 
conditions.  And  so  with  all  other  institutions  and  forces  with 
which  we  had  to  deal.  In  no  case  was  the  structure  considered  for 
its  own  sake.  It  was  studied  with  reference  to  what  it  contributes 
to  the  on-going  social  life. 

But  our  point  of  view  must  not  only  be  organic :  it  must  also  be 
psychological,  or,  better,  psycho-organic.  This  does  not  change 
the  position  stated  above.  Society  is  none  the  less  organic  be- 
cause the  main  facts  concerning  it  seem  to  be  psychical.  Psychical 
phenomena  present  characteristics  which  are  quite  as  organic  as 
those  of  biological  phenomena.  Baldwin's  criticism'  of  the 
"social  organism"  has  little  point  against  the  concept  as  stated 
above;  and  his  "psychological  organization"  is  misleading  in 
that  it  ignores  the  non-psychical  factors  in  the  social  life.  Nor 
is  it  sufficient  to  set  these  non-psychical  factors  off  by  themselves 
as  "extra-social  conditions. "^  The  various  selective  forces  and 
physical  conditions  are  as  much  social  facts  as  are  the  thoughts 
of  individuals.  The  view  which  regards  the  on-going  activities  of 
the  social  hfe  as  the  essential  social  fact  is  much  more  adequate 

I  Mackenzie,  Introduction  to  Social  Philosophy,  164-203,  amplified  from  an 
unpublished  statement  by  Dewey. 

'  Baldwin,  Social  and  Ethical  Interpretations  in  Mental  Development,  520-23. 

3  Baldwin,  "The  Social  and  the  Extra-Social,"  American  Journal  of  Soci- 
ology, IV,  649-53. 


376  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

than  one  that  abstracts  the  psychical  phenomena  and  regards 
them  as  the  whole  of  society.  It  is  true  that  the  most  striking 
facts  of  society  are  frequently  the  thoughts  of  individuals,  because 
the  values  of  the  activities  of  society  are  realized  in  the  conscious- 
ness of  individuals.  A  genetic  study  involves  an  investigation  of 
all  social  forces ;  but  since  the  experience  of  the  society  is  recapitu- 
lated in  the  consciousness  of  the  individual,  we  find  our  problem 
to  be  in  part  the  statement  of  the  social  values  as  they  are  realized 
in  the  individual.  The  worth  of  the  individual  is  found  only  when 
we  come  to  an  understanding  of  society.  The  individual  is  "  a  social 
out-come  rather  than  a  social  unit."^  His  relations  to  society  are 
thoroughly  organic.  The  individual  can  be  defined  only  in  terms 
of  the  society  of  which  he  is  an  expression.'  Growth  in  individu- 
ality means  growth  in  specialization  of  function  as  an  organ  of 
society.  The  social  problem  is,  in  large  part  at  least,  the  organiza- 
tion of  the  social  consciousness  on  the  basis  of  the  activities  of 
individuals  as  reacted  upon  by  society;  and  the  individual  comes 
to  consciousness  of  his  own  activity  through  the  interpretation  of 
it  in  the  social  interactions  which  result  from  it.  One  of  the  main 
interests  in  any  study  of  social  evolution  must  be  in  the  way  the 
individual  grows  in  value  through  the  functional  division  of  labor. 

THE  GENETIC  STUDY  OF  SOCIETY 

The  importance  of  a  study  of  the  development  of  the  social 
forces  which  today  demand  our  attention  can  hardly  be  questioned. 
A  genetic  explanation  of  any  phenomenon  may  not,  indeed,  be  a 
complete  explanation  of  it,  but  no  explanation  is  adequate  which 
does  not  include  the  genetic  explanation.  Certain  kinds  of  his- 
torical studies,  whether  of  fossils  or  of  human  societies,  may  have 
practically  no  vital  connection  with  the  investigation  of  present 

'  Baldwin,  Social  and  Ethical  Interpretations,  87. 

"  "There  are  two  fundamental  inquiries  at  the  bottom  of  any  adequate  theory 
of  society.  The  first  is  this:  How  far  a  complete  knowledge  of  the  individual  man 
in  society  would  also  be  a  complete  revelation  0}  the  society  which  he  is  in  ?  And 
the  second  question  is  this  (the  reverse  of  the  other) :  How  far  is  it  necessary  to 
understand  society,  as  it  actually  exists,  in  order  to  construct  an  adequate  view  of 
the  man's  actual  nature  and  social  possibilities!" — Ibid.,  184. 


METHOD  AND  SCOPE  OF  INQUIRY  377 

life  activities,  but  these  do  not  detract  from  the  value  of  a  gen- 
uine study  of  development. 

Because  of  the  relative  ease  with  which  facts  concerning  the 
present  may  be  gathered,  and  the  great  difficulties  in  the  way  of 
securing  satisfactory  information  concerning  the  past  from  records 
written  by  men  whose  interests  were  very  different  from  those  of 
the  modern  student,  there  is  a  strong  temptation  to  follow  the  hne 
of  least  resistance  and  study  only  contemporary  society.  This 
tendency  is  most  marked  in  the  case  of  men  who  are  drawn  into 
movements  which  are  working  for  immediate  reforms.  Yet, 
since  the  scientific  methods  of  today  are  so  largely  dominated  by 
the  theory  of  evolution,  many  students  of  society  have  felt  the 
necessity  of  discovering  the  methods  of  social  development  in  order 
to  interpret  present  tendencies.  Naturally,  perhaps,  they  have 
turned  to  the  comparative  study  of  existing  societies  which  are  in 
different  stages  of  development;  for  not  only  can  these  be  ob- 
served with  a  considerable  degree  of  certainty,  but  the  facts  con- 
cerning the  very  beginnings  of  social  life  which  may  be  reasonably 
inferred  are  of  great  value  in  studying  the  more  complex  phe- 
nomena of  our  own  highly  developed  society.  It  has  thus  become 
impossible  for  a  man  to  do  respectable  work  as  a  sociologist  without 
having  a  fair  knowledge  of  anthropology  and  folk-psychology; 
and,  indeed,  the  very  best  work  in  sociology  has  been  within  those 
fields.  The  way  in  which  certain  social  tendencies  originate 
and  the  way  in  which  certain  social  institutions  develop  under 
varying  circumstances  can  be  best  discovered  by  the  study  of 
simpler  social  conditions.  There  is  undoubtedly  still  a  vast  mine 
to  be  worked  in  the  interests  of  general  sociology. 

But  when  all  this  has  been  said  in  favor  of  the  anthropological 
method,  its  limitations  must  still  be  recognized.  The  first  of 
these  is  found  in  the  fact  that  existing  savage  and  barbarous  socie- 
ties are  not  only  not  the  ancestors  of  existing  civihzed  societies, 
but  are  not  even  in  a  line  of  development  which  can  possibly  lead 
to  a  stage  of  civilization  such  as  we  find  in  modern  Christendom. 
They  are  as  old  as  the  civilized  societies;  their  structure  is  in 
most  cases  so  rigidly  fixed  that  it  is  inconceivable  that  any  change 


378  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

in  their  environment  would  result  in  a  development  into  societies 
such  as  those  which  make  up  the  civilized  world.  The  beginnings 
of  the  highest  Aryan  civilization  were  found  in  a  time  when  the 
social  structure — and  perhaps  the  individual — was  more  plastic 
than  that  of  existing  lower  societies,  and  when  the  environment 
was  different  from  any  which  may  now  have  a  determining  influ- 
ence upon  the  lower  races.  If  the  Slavs  or  the  Chinese  some- 
time become  the  highest  representatives  of  civilization,  the  course 
of  their  development  will  have  to  go  through  different  stages 
from  those  through  which  the  Greeks,  Romans,  and  Teutons 
have  passed.  Many  elements  which  are  common  to  all  social  de- 
velopment are  discoverable  by  the  comparative  study  of  the  cases 
of  arrested  development  that  are  found  in  contemporary  lower 
societies;  but  it  is  only  in  the  simplest  stages  of  culture,  when 
the  differentiation  along  diverging  lines  has  proceeded  to  but  a 
slight  extent,  that  we  may  expect  to  derive  much  benefit  from  a 
comparative  study  of  the  existing  lower  races. 

But  aside  from  the  difficulty  just  mentioned,  it  must  be  remem- 
bered that  after  all  the  information  that  anthropology  can  give,  a 
tremendous  hiatus  must  remain  between  the  highest  point  to 
which  any  of  the  so-called  lower  races  have  ever  attained  and 
that  at  which  we  find  our  own  society  today.  A  work  is  needed 
to  come  between,  say,  middle  barbarism  and  contemporary 
western  civilization.  To  understand  the  course  of  development 
of  modern  Christendom — a  course  which  no  other  society  has 
ever  passed  over  —  an  historical  survey  is  needed  which  shall 
take  in,  not  only  the  development  of  Teutonic  groups  from  barbar- 
ism to  their  present  civilization,  but  also  the  older  civiHzations 
which  they  appropriated.  The  investigation,  then,  of  modem 
social  institutions  involves  historical  as  well  as  anthropological 
(in  the  narrower  sense)  studies.  If  we  are  to  study  social  evolu- 
tion at  all,  it  will  not  be  possible  to  satisfy  ourselves  with  an  ex- 
'amination  of  the  beginnings  and  early  development  of  social  life 
and  of  the  highly  complex  outcome  of  the  present  day.  The 
intermediate  stages  are  in  some  cases  the  most  important  of  all. 

There  are  probably  some  social  tendencies  which  we  may 


METHOD  AND  SCOPE  OF  INQUIRY  379 

intelligently  consider  without  paying  much  attention  to  their 
genesis.  These  must  be  such  as  are  simple  and  transparent  in 
nature  and  carry  on  their  surface  the  prophecy  of  their  destiny. 
But  these  must  be  simply  superficial  forces.  The  important  in- 
stitutions of  society  have  a  long  life-history.  They  are  the  out- 
come of  past  movements  and  are  moving  toward  a  future  which 
their  past  largely  determines.  No  difficulty  in  the  way  of  gathering 
data,  no  pressure  for  quick  results,  should  deter  the  student  of 
society  from  seeking  a  genetic  explanation  of  the  phenomena 
Immediately  before  him.  For  short-hved  movements  such  an 
explanation  may  be  found  by  examining  data  which  the  records 
of  the  present  generation  supply;  and  when  the  changes  in  social 
life  are  very  rapid  and  very  radical,  contemporary  facts  may  be 
most  important  in  explaining  institutions  which  seem  to  have 
their  roots  in  the  remote  past.  There  is  no  essential  distinction 
between  past  and  contemporary  history.  The  important  point 
is  that  the  course  of  development  must  be  traced,  be  that  course 
long  or  short.  Nevertheless,  it  may  be  questioned  whether  the 
really  important  institutions  and  significant  forces  are  ever  those 
which  have  had  a  short  course  of  development.  A  revolution 
may  occur  and  a  convention  may  draw  up  a  new  constitution, 
but  we  know  that  such  constitutions  are  purely  artificial.  The 
event  is  significant,  as  showing  the  outcome  of  a  long  course  of 
development  and  a  change  in  the  habits  of  the  people,  but  the  con- 
stitution itself  is  of  trifling  importance.  If  it  is  to  have  any  im- 
portance in  the  after-life  of  the  people,  it  must  be  merely  the  crys- 
tallization of  tendencies  which  have  long  been  present.  In  so 
far  as  it  is  not  the  expression  of  the  real  genius  of  the  people,  a 
few  years  will  see  it  rescinded  or  modified.^ 

A  mere  sectional  view  of  society  is  not  of  very  great  value.  If 
sectional  views  are  taken  at  many  different  periods,  especially 
at  critical  periods,  the  movement  from  one  status  to  another  may 

I  "In  all  its  phases  society  is  under  limitations  imposed  by  its  history.  Every 
social  condition  is  the  outcome  of  previous  conditions  and  events,  and  each  such 
condition  consists  of  a  multitude  of  influences  from  which  subsequent  developments 
proceed.  Accordingly  there  is  no  difference  in  principle  between  social  and  his- 
torical laws. "— Wundt,  Logik  (2d  ed.),  II  {MethodenUhre),  sec.  ii,  437- 


380  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

be  readily  inferred;  but  the  study  then  becomes  dynamical  rather 
than  statical.  Probably,  however,  the  best  results  can  be  secured 
by  considering  the  movement  itself  in  connection  with  the  statical 
phenomena.  Wherever  the  emphasis  is  laid,  the  movement, 
the  line  of  development,  is  always  of  more  importance  than  the 
attained  values  at  any  point.*  The  latter  may  have  an  aesthetic 
interest;  but  the  life-movement  of  society  alone  can  be  of  impor- 
tance for  social  philosophy.  Social  evolution  is  analogous  to  all 
other  kinds  of  evolution;  it  is  always  gradual.  By  degrees  struc- 
tures are  modified,  and  in  the  course  of ^^es  customs,  laws,  and 
institutions  undergo  radicarchanges.'  While  the  structure  re- 
mains unchanged  the  social  life  may  be  so  changing  that  the  struc- 
ture becomes  meaningless.  It  represents  simply  a  survival,  and, 
except  for  aesthetic  purposes, '  must  soon  undergo  modification 
or  be  entirely  done  away.  The  real  social  life,  the  movement,  is 
of  importance  for  sociology;  a  statical  view  of  society  is  of  im- 
portance only  as  contributing  to  a  dynamical  view. 

The  distinction  which  Ward  draws  between  statical  and  dy- 
namical facts  is  not,  in  the  last  analysis,  of  importance,  if,  indeed, 
it  is  justified  at  all.  He  would  regard  any  movement  which  does 
not  change  the  type  as  statical.  Both  structure  and  function 
would  have  to  be  regarded  as  statical,  since  he  holds  that  a  change 
of  type  is  brought  about,  not  through  the  functioning  of  the  or- 
ganism, but  through  some  force  with  which  feeling  is  connected. 
Any  quantitative  change  is  static,  while  a  qualitative  change  is 
dynamic*  Now,  the  change  from  one  social  type  to  another 
is  undoubtedly  of  capital  importance;  but  is  not  this  the  ultimate 

»  "It  has  therefore  been  the  moveTnent  rather  than  the  status  of  society,  which 
it  has  been  sought  to  explain;  the  causes  of  social  phenomena  and  social  progress 
rather  than  the  condition  of  society  itself.  The  status,  or  condition,  of  society  is  to 
be  learned  by  the  consideration  of  the  indirect,  or  functional,  effects  of  what  hare 
been  denominated  social  forces." — Ward,  Dynamic  Sociology,  I,  701. 

"  Ward,  "Social  Genesis,"  American  Journal  of  Sociology,  II,  537. 

3  By  aesthetic  interest  I  mean  an  interest  in  attained  values  for  their  own 
sake.  An  aesthetic  value  is  an  attained  value  which  is  appreciated  immediately, 
and  not  because  of  its  place  in  any  future  development. 

4  Ward,  "Static  and  Dynamic  Sociology,"  Political  Science  Quarterly,  X,  207-18. 


METHOD  AND  SCOPE  OF  INQUIRY  381 

result  of  all  functioning  of  the  type  which  becomes  changed? 
The  purpose  of  all  functioning  is  to  maintain  the  life-activity  of 
the  organism  which  is  primarily  bound  up  with  the  existing  struc- 
ture. That  is,  the  purpose  of  function  is  to  maintain  the  type  in 
statu  quo.  But  if  the  environment  renders  it  difficult  for  the  ex- 
isting structure  to  function,  the  functioning  itself  will  lead  to  a 
modification  of  the  structure.  This  would  be  true  even  from  the 
point  of  view  of  extreme  Weismannism.  The  same  force,  which 
under  established  conditions  simply  maintains  the  existing  struc- 
ture will,  when  the  structure  is  no  longer  adapted  to  its  environ- 
ment, lead  to  a  change  of  type,  function  and  structure  correc- 
tively undergoing  change  in  order  to  meet  the  new  situation. 
The  feeling  upon  which  Ward  lays  such  stress  arises  when  there 
is  a  check  in  the  on-going  habits.  If  that  check  is  but  temporary, 
no  change  in  the  type  is  noticeable;  but  if  it  is  permanent 
or  radical,  the  organism  must  undergo  modification  or  perish.* 
There  is,  then,  no  purely  quantitative  change  in  organic  life, 
for  the  same  general  life- activity,  which  before  the  change  of  type 
is  called  function  by  Ward,  is  the  force  which  brings  about  the 
change.  It  may  seem  desirable  tor  call  the  functioning  statical 
when  the  organism  and  its  environment  are  in  equihbrium,  but 
this  is  simply  equivalent  to  saying  that  the  structure  is  undergoing 
no  change. 

The  position  above  taken  emphasizes  the  importance  of  a 
consideration  of  activity  as  the  key  to  social  evolution.  If  a  stati- 
cal view  of  society  is  taken,  it  will  be  possible  to  attend  simply 
to  the  various  types  as  they  successively  appear.  But  it  must 
be  remembered  that  these  structures  which  are  adapted  to  a  cer- 

»  On  Ward's  claim  that  everything  connected  with  feeling  is  djmamic,  Small 
says:  "  Then  everything  social  is  primarily  dynamic,  since  it  has  its  roots  at  last  in 
the  feelings  of  the  social  units.  My  weariness  when  I  go  to  bed  at  night  (feeling), 
and  my  hunger  when  I  rise  in  the  morning  (feeUng),  are  more  intimately  connected 
with  the  static  functions  of  restoring  the  bodily  tissues  than  they  can  possibly  be 
with  any  dynamic  function,  say  of  instigating  a  revolution  in  the  interest  of  easier 

food  supply  for  my  descendants Whatever  be  the  categories  according  to 

which  we  divide  social  phenomena,  feeling  of  some  sort  will  have  to  be  recognized 
in  each  and  aU  of  them. "—" Static  and  Dynamic  Sociology,"  American  Journal 
of  Sociology,  I,  198,  note. 


382  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

tain  kind  of  functioning  must  be  constantly  changing  by  slow 
degrees,  if  the  environment  changes,  or  must  perish.  It  is  not  their 
status  in  which  we  are  interested,  but  their  method  of  develop- 
ment; for  the  status  can  not  be  maintained.  The  functioning 
gives  the  clew  to  the  mode  of  social  activity  which,  after  all,  is 
the  only  real  thing. 

Our  purpose,  therefore,  is  to  study  the  functioning  of  society, 
in  order  to  understand,  not  only  its  self-maintenance,  but  also 
its  method  of  development.  Of  course,  the  function  can  never 
be  studied  except  in  connection  with  the  structure  through  which 
the  functioning  takes  place ;  but  the  emphasis  here  must  be  upon 
function  rather  than  structure.  In  the  examination  of  an  animal 
or  vegetable  organism  whose  structure  is  practically  fixed,  the 
structure  may  be  taken  as  a  sufficient  index  to  the  constant  mode 
of  functioning.  To  know  the  structure  would  then  mean  to  know 
the  function,  not  only  for  the  time,  but  for  practically  all  time- 
In  the  examination  of  a  fixed,  or  relatively  fixed,  social  organism, 
as  some  Asiatic  communities  before  they  have  been  disturbed  by 
civilized  nations,  the  structure  may  be  regarded  as  permanent 
and  therefore  a  sufficient  clew  to  an  understanding  of  the  func- 
tion.' In  so  far  as  the  structure  is  rigid  and  is  yet  so  well  adapted 
to  the  environment  that  it  is  able  to  persist,  an  understanding  of  it 
involves  an  understanding  of  the  function.  But  if  the  organism 
is  relatively  unstable,  if  it  is  constantly  undergoing  modification 
in  its  double  reaction  with  its  environment,  the  function  is  always 
tending  to  go  beyond  the  existing  structure,  requiring  the  latter 
to  readjust  itself  to  meet  the  new  situation.  In  such  cases  the 
study  of  the  function  will  prove  more  fruitful.  In  both  cases 
the  life  process  consists  in  the  functioning  of  the  organism  through 
its  structure ;  but  in  the  latter  case  the  relative  importance  of  func- 
tion is  greater  than  in  the  former.  The  function  will  represent  a 
continuous  process  which  not  only  coincides  with  the  well-adapted 
structure,  but  which  may  also  burst  through  the  structure  when 
the  latter  no  longer  corresponds  to  the  demands  of  the  environ- 

I  Barth,  Die  Philosophie  der  Geschichte  als  Sociologie,  11. 


METHOD  AND  SCOPE  OF  INQUIRY  383 

ment,  and  which  carries  on  the  organism  to  the  formation  of  a  new 
t)T)e  which  shall  be  adapted  to,  or  in,  the  environment. 

The  conditions  just  described  are  found  in  no  other  organism 
so  fully  as  in  modem  society.  The  society  which  is  the  object 
of  this  investigation  is  today,  and  has  been  throughout  the  period 
which  we  shall  study,  extremely  mobile.  From  the  period  at 
which  we  first  discover  it  up  to  the  present  time,  it  has  never  been 
stationary.  It  has  not  been  in  a  state  of  flux.  If  it  had  been,  it 
must  have  perished  before  this.  Its  structure  has  usually  been 
well  defined,  and  has  resisted  change  until  the  change  has  be- 
come inevitable.  But,  at  the  same  time,  it  has  been  constantly 
developing — not  merely  constantly  growing  from  the  cumulative 
effects  of  "statical"  functioning,  but  evolving  new  types  through 
the  modification  of  its  structure  to  suit  new  conditions.  The 
dynamics  of  such  a  society  must  be  much  more  important  than 
its  statics.  The  student  of  such  a  society  must  be  a  physiologist 
rather  than  an  anatomist.  As  has  been  said  above,  the  statical  view 
of  society  will  be  helpful  only  if  many  cross-sections  are  taken, 
and  then  only  in  order  that  the  movement  from  one  stage  to  an- 
other may  be  observed  more  clearly.  The  status  of  such  a  society 
can  not  be  maintained,  and  is  not  worth  studying  for  its  own  sake : 
the  movement  is  everything,  and  must  be  mastered.  Therefore, 
the  study  of  existing  institutions,  since  they  are  tending  toward 
new  types,  must  be  indissolubly  connected  with  the  study  of  social 
history. 

Earth's  criticism  of  Wundt's  attempt  to  separate  sociology 
from  philosophy  of  history  bears  directly  upon  this  point.  Wundt 
would  give  to  sociology  the  status  (Zustand)  of  human  society, 
and  to  philosophy  of  history  the  process  {V or  gang)  which  gives 
rise  to  the  status  or  condition.^  Barth  justly  holds  that  this 
distinction  is  not  valid,  because  society  never  stands  still  but  is 
always  in  process  of  development.  To  state  the  principles  of  a 
stationary  society,  as  Wundt  would  have  sociology  do,  is  perfectly 
possible,  since  it  would  be  but  to  abstract  the  universal  from  the 

»   Logik,  II  (Methodenlehre),  sec.  ii,  438. 


384  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

particulars.  But  this  is  impossible  in  the  case  of  a  developing 
society.  There,  to  include  the  conditions  causally  and  so  to  ex- 
plain them  is  only  possible  when  we  trace  their  becoming.^  His- 
tory alone  can  complete  Wundt's  sociology  by  raising  it  from 
description  to  explanation.  Small  makes  a  similar  criticism  of 
Wundt.  He  holds  that  there  is  no  diflference  in  kind  between  a 
law  which  is  to  be  called  social  and  one  which  is  to  be  called  his- 
torical. This  is  especially  true  concerning  a  law  of  succession 
rather  than  one  of  correlation.  It  is  neither  necessary  nor 
desirable  in  the  interest  of  sociology  to  claim  that  such  difference 
exists.  Rather  is  it  in  the  interest  of  truth  and  clearness  to  admit 
that  sociology  is  concerned  primarily,  so  far  as  it  deals  with  his- 
torical material,  with  generalizing  into  universal  formulas  the 
facts  of  serial  and  causal  relationships  which  the  historians  make 
out  in  particular  cases.  What  the  philosophers  of  history  tried 
to  do  is  genuine  sociological  work." 

THE  DEMANDS  OF  SOCIOLOGY  UPON  HISTORY 

When  we  come  to  gather  the  materials  which  shall  serve  as  the 
basis  for  a  genetic  explanation  of  social  phenomena,  we  find  that  the 
ordinary  histories  do  not  give  us  the  assistance  needed.  The  first 
impulse  of  the  sociologist  who  needs  historical  data  is,  of  course,  to 
turn  to  the  professed  historian  for  the  information  he  craves ;  and, 

more  particularly,  when  the  matter  is  of  a  constitutional  or  legal  character 
to  the  historian  of  law.  But  when  he  does  so,  he  is  only  likely  to  find  one  of 
two  things.  Either  the  information  he  receives,  while  it  has  a  grammatical 
consistency,  yet  leaves  him  quite  in  the  dark  as  to  the  daily  life  of  the  people 
concerned — he  asks  for  a  picture  and  receives  a  formula;  or,  instead  of  one 
answer  to  his  inquiry,  he  is  given  several,  all  from  eminent  authorities,  and 
absolutely  irreconcilable.  Then,  probably,  he  gives  up  the  quest,  and  falls 
back  on  some  neat  little  a  priori  theory  of  his  own  as  to  what  the  course  of 
economic  evolution  must  have  been.  If  he  does  not,  but  makes  up  his  mind  to 
go  to  the  original  sources  for  himself,  he  will  be  fortunate  if  he  escapes  an 
occasional  sly  thrust  from  historian  and  lawyer  for  venturing  beyond  his  last. 

'  Barth,  op.  cit.,  11,  12.  "Aber  die  Zxistande  kausal  zu  begreifen  und  so 
erst  vollig  zu  erklaren,  ist  nur  moglich,  wenn  man  ihr  Warden  verfolgt"  (p.  11). 

'  Unpublished  criticism  on  Wundt,  he.  cit. 

3  Ashley,  "The  Beginning  of  Town  Life  in  the  Middle  Ages,"  Quarterly 
Journal  oj  Economics,  X,  359,  360. 


METHOD  AND  SCOPE  OF  INQUIRY  385 

The  history  is  usually  either  a  mere  description  of  curious  customs 
given  as — for  the  time  being — statical,  or  a  treatment  of  the  devel- 
opment of  poUtical  institutions  abstracted  from  the  general  social 
movement.  Both  kinds  of  history  may  contain  much  valuable 
material  which  may  be  worked  over  by  one  who  desires  to  get 
a  general  view  of  the  social  development,  but  are  quite  likely  to 
leave  gaps  at  important  points,  if,  indeed,  they  do  not  give  false 
interpretations.  The  former,  at  its  best,  is  a  chronicle;  the  latter 
is  an  interpretative  undertaking,  but  deals  with  an  abstraction, 
and  so  must  be  reconstructed  in  some  degree  before  it  can  serve 
the  purpose  desired. 

Since  the  time  of  Niebuhr,  the  method  of  history  has  made 
wonderful  strides.  The  critical  scientific  method  has  cleared 
the  ground  of  much  rubbish;  and  there  is  no  doubt  that  the  judg- 
ment of  the  historians  as  to  the  credibility  of  the  evidence  with  which 
they  deal  is,  in  the  main,  thoroughly  reliable.  But  this  does  not 
change  the  fact  that  the  best  histories  are  mere  histories  of  politi- 
cal institutions  abstracted  from  the  other  phenomena  of  social 
life.  History,  instead  of  being  a  social  science  co-ordinate  with 
economics,  politics,  etc.,  is  a  method  employed  in  connection 
with  the  discipline  of  political  science.  It  endeavors  to  furnish 
to  the  student  of  politics  the  genetic  explanation  of  political 
phenomena.  This  is  a  perfectly  legitimate  ofl&ce,  and  neither 
the  economist  nor  the  general  sociologist  has  any  right  to 
complain  because  a  wider  field  is  not  covered,  provided  the  his- 
torian does  not  claim  to  do  all  that  needs  to  be  done.  As  the 
student  of  pohtics  thus  has  traced  for  him  the  development  of 
political  institutions,  so  the  student  of  ethics  must  secure  a  state- 
ment of  the  facts  of  the  development  of  the  moral  life,  the 
student  of  economics  needs  his  economic  history,  and  the  general 
sociologist,  using  the  material  thus  gathered  from  these  special 
points  of  view,  must  have  also  at  his  disposal  an  account  of  the 
development  of  the  social  hfe  in  general.  Correlative  with  these 
histories,  and  depending  upon  them  to  some  extent,  there  must 
be  a  history  of  pohtics,  a  history  of  economics,  a  history  of  ethics, 
and  a  history  of  sociology.     Or,  perhaps  still  better,  there  might 


386  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

be  a  scientific  treatment  of  both  the  data  and  the  philosophies  of 
these  sciences,  which  will  give  an  adequate  account  on  both  the 
historical  and  contemporary  sides  of  all  social  phenomena  that 
have  a  life-history.  From  this  point  of  view,  there  is  as  much 
reason  for  an  economic  history  as  a  separate  discipline  as  for  the 
political  history  which  goes  by  the  broad  name  of  history/ 

If  history  proper  is  the  description  and  explanation  of  the 
political  development  only,  it  cannot  be  expected  to  give  the 
direct  information  we  need,  though  the  indirect  assistance  both 
from  data  gathered  and  from  criticism  of  sources  may  be  very 
great.  The  government,  which  is  the  object  of  greatest  interest 
to  political  history,  is  but  a  surface  phenomenon.  The  impor- 
tant function  of  government — in  so  far  as  it  has  not  been  a  mere 
surface  indication  of  social  movements — has  been  protective  or 
conservative  of  that  which  has  been  secured  by  society  through 
its  whole  activity,*  and  thus  it  has  been  at  once  a  stepping-stone 
for  further  progress  and  a  check  upon  advancing  tendencies.  It 
has  never  been  a  positive  promoter  of  the  social  evolution,  but 
it  "has  certainly  been  a  sine  qua  non  of  it."^  The  classical 
statement  made  by  Spencer  of  the  character  of  the  historical 
information  needed  by  the  societary  student  may  exaggerate  the 
importance  of  a  certain  class  of  details,  but  his  main  contention 
for  all  "facts  which  help  us  to  understand  how  a  nation  has  grown 
and  organized  itself,"'*  must  express  the  sentiments  of  every  one 
who  wants  to  understand  the  life  of  society.  A  later  writer  has 
well  stated  the  relatively  greater  importance  of  the  non-govern- 
ment history: 

The  history  of  man,  if  it  should  ever  be  written,  would  be  an  account  of 
what  man  has  done.     The  numerous  changes  that  have  been  made  in  the  posi- 

I  Historical  writers  have  treated  of  many  important  facts  which  can  not  be 
called  political;  but  it  is  nevertheless  true  that  their  main  interest  has  usually 
been  in  the  political  development,  other  matters  being  brought  in  simply  as  side- 
lights. This  is  true  even  of  the  so-called  social  historians,  such  as  Green  and 
McMaster. 

»  Ward,  Dynamic  Sociology,  II,  243. 

sihid. 

4  Preface  to  the  American  edition  of  The  Study  of  Society. 


METHOD  AND  SCOPE  OF  INQUIRY  387 

tion  of  certain  imaginary  lines  on  the  earth's  surface,  called  political  bovind- 
aries,  and  the  events  that  have  given  rise  to  such  changes,  would  be  recorded, 
but  instead  of  making  the  bulk  of  human  annals  as  they  now  do,  they  would 
occupy  a  very  subordinate  place.  Such  changes  and  their  conditioning 
events  are  temporary,  superficial,  and  unimportant.  They  leave  no  lasting 
impress  and  are  soon  swept  by  time  completely  from  the  real  record  of  man's 
achievements.  The  major  part  of  a  true  history  of  man  would  be  devoted 
to  the  reproduction  of  this  real  record.' 

The  point  of  all  this  is  not  that  the  ordinary  historians  are  to 
be  blamed  for  not  writing  the  kind  of  history  we  desire.  They 
are  perfectly  justified  in  the  selection  of  a  special  field.  The 
results  of  their  labors  are  subject  to  no  other  criticism  than  that 
which  has  been  passed  above  concerning  the  defects  of  studies 
which  abstract  certain  phenomena  and  fail  to  modify  their  con- 
clusions by  placing  their  facts  in  relation  with  all  other  facts.  The 
defect  in  history,  however,  is  probably  slighter  than  in  most  of  the 
other  disciplines.  The  only  object  of  these  statements  is  to  show 
that  someone  must  work  out  a  general  social  history,  if  the  devel- 
opment of  society  is  to  be  understood.  A  brief  attempt  to  do 
this  is  made  in  the  following  pages. 

THE  METHOD  AND  MATERIAL  OF  SOCIAL  HISTORY 

When  we  turn  away  from  the  completed  political  histories,  the 
task  of  securing  a  history  of  social  development  seems,  at  first, 
too  great  to  be  undertaken.  Not  only  is  historical  research  as 
such  likely  to  be  somewhat  less  inspiring  to  one  whose  main  in- 
terest is  in  contemporary  social  hfe,  than  it  is  to  the  historian 
proper;  but  the  apparent  paucity  of  materials  tends  to  turn  one 
back  to  contemporary  phenomena  as  the  only  field  that  is  worth 
working.  The  first  objection  is  soon  swept  away,  if  the  student 
actually  discovers  the  method  of  social  hfe;  for  the  method  of 
social  evolution  is  of  infinitely  greater  interest  than  any  amount 
of  concrete  information  about  present-day  matters.  The  second 
objection  disappears  when  the  student  finds  that  many  luminous 
facts  are  discoverable.  Pioneers  in  economic  and  social  history, 
such  as  Cunningham,  Rogers,  Ashley,  and  others,  have  discovered 

*  Ward,  The  Psychic  Factors  of  Civilization,  97. 


388  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

many  rich  mines  in  the  museums  and  hbraries,  which  have  already 
)rielded  returns  that  justify  the  working.  The  court  rolls,  mon- 
astic records,  old  chronicles,  gild  charters,  etc.,  have  been  preserved 
in  vast  quantities.  Many  of  these  have  been  edited  and  published 
in  monumental  collections ;  many  others  are  still  awaiting  exhum- 
ing. These  old  documents,  often  intended  to  record  simple  agri- 
cultural and  building  operations,  are  remarkably  illustrative  of 
the  inner  life  of  the  different  communities  during  that  transition 
period  in  the  development  of  society  in  which  we  are  so  deeply 
interested.^  The  modern  student,  especially  if  he  is  armed 
with  the  scientific  methods  of  the  time,  need  have  no  fear  lest  time 
will  be  wasted  in  his  efforts  to  trace  the  course  of  development 
of  society.  With  results  before  us  such  as  have  been  produced 
by  such  scholars  as  those  named  above  and  by  such  others  as 
Seebohm,  Schmoller,  Vinogradoff,  Fustel  de  Coulanges,  it  can 
no  longer  be  said  that  the  results  of  historical  investigation  are 
not  comparable  with  those  which  are  concerned  with  contempo- 
rary movements.  Since  important  materials  are  available,  no 
apparent  difficulty  should  deter  sociologists  from  setting  in  order 
the  data  needed  for  social  philosophy.  The  present  investigation 
has  taken  into  consideration  but  a  minute  fraction  of  the  records  of 
the  period  covered,  and  that  mostly  at  second  hand;  but  the  re- 
sults, schematic  though  they  are,  may  be  considered  about  as 
complete  for  the  Middle  Ages  as  they  can  be  made  for  the  nine- 
teenth century.  The  purpose  here  is  to  put  together  and  inter- 
pret some  of  the  results  of  the  eminent  investigators  who  have 
done  first-hand  work  in  small  sections  of  the  field  covered. 

But  in  order  to  draw  safe  conclusions  concerning  social  life, 
it  is  not  necessary  to  have  mountains  of  evidence  to  substantiate 
multitudinous  minute  details.  There  are  many  facts  concerning 
both  the  past  and  the  present  which  may  well  be  neglected.  The 
details  of  the  life  of  societies  are  not  worth  considering  except  as 
they  illustrate  some  permanent  principle  with  which  we  must 
take  account.'     It  is  true  that  many  important  facts  may  be  neg- 

I   Rogers,  The  Economic  Interpretation  of  History,  3-6. 

»    "  No  history  is  worth  preserving  which  does  not  at  once  illustrate  the  prog- 


METHOD  AND  SCOPE  OF  INQUIRY  389 

lected  in  a  hasty  attempt  to  select  striking  phenomena  for  generali- 
zation, and,  on  the  other  hand,  many  details  which  have  been  set 
down  by  a  mere  chronicler  who  had  in  mind  only  the  accurate 
recital  of  everything  that  had  come  to  his  notice  may  be  found 
to  be  a  perfect  mine  of  valuable  information  to  the  investigator 
who  comes  after  him.  Enough  has  been  said  to  indicate  the  im- 
portance of  having  sufficient  details  to  furnish  the  setting  of  the 
particular  facts  from  which  we  are  drawing  conclusions.  The 
abstraction  of  the  purely  political  phenomena  was  shown  to  be  a 
method  which  leads  to  defective  results.  Evidently,  then,  many 
details  are  necessary  to  serve  as  correctives  in  judgment  concern- 
ing main  facts,  and  many  hitherto  neglected  facts  are  needed  by 
those  who  are  seeking  to  discover  the  more  general  principles  of 
life.  But  with  this  recognition  of  the  importance  of  ample  data 
for  generalization,  the  position  is  still  taken  that  only  those  facts 
which  indicate  permanent  principles  are  of  importance  for  the 
interpretation  of  social  life.  Others  can  be  of  only  minor  interest, 
and  can  satisfy  only  a  mere  curiosity. 

A  work  of  descriptive  sociology  must  be  more  than  a  mere 
record  of  the  redistribution  of  matter  and  motion.  It  must  be 
carried  on  with  reference  to  present  social  consciousness.  An 
explanation  of  development  is  an  explanation  of  the  development 
of  the  social  consciousness  up  to  the  present  point.  A  statical 
description  of  existing  institutions  is  a  description  with  refer- 
ence to  the  values  they  are  contributing  to  social  life.  They  are 
of  interest  only  as  they  contribute  to,  or  detract  from,  the  values 
of  life;  and  the  test  must  always  be  what  they  give  to  conscious- 
ness. Some  present  forces  which  we  do  not  now  appreciate  may 
be  contributing  to  a  future  social  value — therefore,  we  may  greatly 
assist  future  generations  in  the  effort  to  understand  the  meaning 
of  their  life  by  filling  our  statistical  reports  and  chronicles  with 
all  manner  of  detailed  information — but  it  is  only  a  matter  of 
chance  whether  anything  that  is  not  of  value  to  us  will  be  turned 

ress  of  the  race,  or  a  permanent  influence History  which  does  not  attempt 

to  distinguish  the  relative  importance  of  facts,  and  does  not  inquire  how  any  con- 
temporaneous set  of  facts  can  be  pressed  into  the  interpretation,  is  a  mere  dis- 
ordered and  imperfect  dictionary." — Rogers,  op.  cit.,  i,  2. 


390  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

over  to  them.  Only  incidentally  is  this  ever  done.  Our  histori- 
cal work  must  be  done  with  reference  to  the  translation  which 
facts  get  in  the  social  consciousness.  Therefore,  many  very  curi- 
ous facts  may  be  cast  aside  as  mere  trash,  and  the  lack  of  others 
which  are  not  now  obtainable  need  not  always  cause  us  regret. 

The  concern  of  the  scientific  historian  is  with  the  mode  or  order  in  which  a 
change  in  social  institutions  occurs;  but  the  real  fact  is  that  this  indicates  a 
change,  a  development,  in  consciousness  itself.  It  throws  light  upon  the  way  in 
which  human  consciousness  differentiates  and  enriches  itself.  Any  history  which 
does  not  tend  in  this  direction  is  ultimately  valueless.  Immediately,  our  fact  may 
be  an  abstraction,  as  the  fixing  of  the  date  of  an  event;  but  the  date  is  of 
value  only  as  it  contributes  to  knowledge  of  the  development  of  consciousness. 
If  the  changes  of  consciousness  are  omitted,  the  history  is  of  no  more  value 
than  a  description  of  the  order  in  which  cobble  stones  are  laid  on  the  streets. 
Except  for  throwing  light  on  this  development,  or  contributing  to  it,  the  child 
might  as  well  study  the  history  of  an  Australian  tribe  as  the  life  of  a  few 
thousand  men  in  Athens.' 

If,  then,  the  data  needed  are  such  as  show  the  development  of  our 
social  consciousness,  the  scope  of  our  inquiry  is  somewhat  nar- 
rowed and  our  problem,  in  some  respects,  simplified.  We  need 
not  search  for  mere  multitudinousness  of  facts.  If  there  is  a  real 
continuity  in  the  development  of  the  social  consciousness,  we  may 
assume  that  the  phenomena  which  have  represented  the  main 
lines  of  development  have  been  translated  into  the  consciousness 
of  men  at  all  periods — though  they  may  not  have  appeared  im- 
pressive to  the  political  classes — and  thus  have  been  preserved  in 
some  monumental  form.  The  myths  and  legends,  poetry  and 
the  pictures  left  in  words,  have  sometimes  preserved  important 
information  which  the  court  recorder  did  not  think  worth  writing 
down.  That  which  represents  merely  the  individual  conscious- 
ness appears  in  the  worthless  details  whose  lack  of  continuity 
betrays  their  own  worthlessness.  Only  those  facts  which  the  social 
consciousness  has  taken  up  and  held  need  be  long  considered; 
and  all  of  the  data  which  are  considered  must  be  selected  with 
reference  to  the  outcome — the  developed  social  consciousness. 
This  amounts  to  a  restatement  of  a  position  taken  earlier  in  this 

»  Dewey,  unpublished  lecture  on  Political  Ethics. 


METHOD  AND  SCOPE  OF  INQUIRY  391 

chapter,  namely,  that  our  hypothesis — which  means  our  present 
social  psychology — must  select  the  data  with  which  it  shall  con- 
firm, or  destroy,  or  reconstruct,  or  enlarge,  itself.  The  data  may 
not  be  gathered  apart  from  the  interpretation;  a  history  of  the 
development  of  the  data  may  not  be  constructed  apart  from  the 
history  of  the  development  of  the  social  consciousness;  a  social 
history  and  a  history  of  thought  must  go  hand  in  hand. 

The  mistake  is  sometimes  made  of  considering  historical  ma- 
terials as  simply  serving  to  confirm  opinions  about  the  present. 
A  conclusion  is  reached  about  some  contemporary  phenomenon 
irrespective  of  its  place  in  the  developing  social  system,  and  then 
it  is  thought  that  the  only  use  to  be  made  of  historical  materials 
is  to  consider  them  as  merely  additional  data  of  the  same  sort  as 
that  which  had  previously  been  examined  and  settled.  That  is, 
the  course  of  development  is  entirely  neglected,  the  genetic  ex- 
planation is  not  thought  worth  while,  and  the  facts  from  the  past 
are  simply  brought  up  to  the  present  and  used  to  expand  present- 
day  facts.  This  is  the  fault  of  the  otherwise  excellent  work 
of  Keynes.'  In  his  discussion  of  the  place  of  economic  history 
this  writer  seems  entirely  to  miss  the  point.  He  would  use  his- 
torical facts  simply  as  illustrations  of  economic  theories;  not  as 
the  means  of  understanding  the  development  of  economic  phenom- 
ena.    He  says : 

The  more  specific  functions  of  economic  history  in  connection  with  the 
theoretical  problems  of  political  economy  may  be  roughly  classified  as  follows: 
first,  to  illustrate  and  test  conclusions  not  themselves  resting  on  historical 
evidence;  secondly,  to  teach  the  limits  of  the  actual  apphcability  of  economic 
doctrines;  thirdly,  to  afford  a  basis  for  the  .direct  attainment  of  economic 
truths  of  a  theoretical  character.  It  is  to  the  last-named  function  that  refer- 
ence is  more  particularly  made  when  the  application  of  the  historical  method 
to  political  economy  is  spoken  of.' 

For  example,  he  finds  the  historical  facts  concerning  the  wages 
of  laborers  after  the  Black  Death  of  particular  value  as  showing 
the  effect  on  wages  of  a  sudden  diminution  of  the  number  of  la- 
borers ;3     but  he  does  not  seem  to  recognize  the  importance  of 

I  The  Scope  and  Method  0}  Political  Economy. 

'  Ibid.,  254.  3  Ibid.,  257,  258. 


392  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

finding  out  the  method  of  development  of  an  industrial  institution 
or  the  meaning  of  the  condition  of  the  industrial  population. 
This  method  of  viewing  historical  facts  naturally  leads  to  the  his- 
torical fallacy  which  reads  back  into  the  past  our  present  condi- 
tions, and  also  to  the  total  failure  to  understand  the  mode  of  social 
development. 

Keynes  is  entirely  correct,  however,  when  he  claims  that  the 
establishment  of  general  laws  by  economic  theory  is  of  more  im- 
portance than  the  statement  of  particular  concrete  facts  by  econo- 
mic history.^  Mackenzie^  has  stated  the  same  truth  in  even 
more  forcible  language.  The  latter  holds  that  the  proper  func- 
tion of  any  science  is  not  merely  to  explain  the  development  of 
phenomena  up  to  date,  but  also  to  indicate  the  tendencies  for 
the  future. 

The  economist  desires  not  only  to  be  a  historian,  but  to  be  a  prophet; 
and  the  mere  teaching  of  history  by  itself  can  never  furnish  a  basis  for 
prophecy .3  History  can  not  even  tell  us  that  the  past  must  have  been  as 
it  was;  much  less  can  it  enable  us  to  predict  that,  amid  the  ever-changing 
stream  of  conditions,  the  future  will  in  any  particular  respects  resemble 
what  the  past  has  been.  Economics  without  history — if  we  may  be  allowed 
to  adapt  the  familiar  phrase  of  Kant — would  be  empty;  but  without  analysis 
it  would  be  blind.  If  it  is  to  supply  us  with  any  practical  insight,  it  must 
not  only  fill  in  for  us  the  conditions  which  have  determined  the  events  of  the 
past  and  present,  but  must  help  us  to  calculate  to  what  extent  each  particular 
element  in  those  conditions  may  be  expected  to  have  weight  in  the  future.* 

A  few  pages  earlier  Mackenzie  makes  a  more  general  statement  of 
the  same  truth  that  he  here  emphasizes  with  reference  to  eco- 
nomics. He  divides  the  work  of  description  into  two  procedures, 
the  statement  of  the  constitution  and  the  statement  of  the  develop- 
ment of  phenomena,  and  continues: 

Wherein  does  the  essential  difference  between  the  constitution  and  the 
development  of  a  thing  consist  ?  So  far  as  the  tracing  of  its  development  is 
merely  the  sketch  of  the  series  of  its  successive  states,  while  the  analysis  of 

I  Op.  cit.,  252  ff. 

« Introduction  to  Social  Philosophy,  31,  32. 

3  This  depends  on  the  definition  of  "mere  teaching  of  history."  History,  as 
defined  above,  is  scarcely  open  to  the  criticism  here  made. 

4  Loc.  cit. 


METHOD  AND  SCOPE  OF  INQUIRY  393 

its  constitution  is  simply  the  unfolding  of  its  present  condition,  there  is  no 
fundamental  difference  between  these  two  things.  The  one  exhibits  the  nature 
of  the  object  at  a  particular  moment:  the  other  exhibits  the  same  nature  as 
it  presents  itself  through  a  series  of  successive  moments.  Between  these 
there  is  no  difference  but  that  of  time;  and  there  is  no  particular  dignity 
about  a  series  in  time,  any  more  than  about  a  series  in  space,  which  should 
cause  the  observation  of  the  former  to  give  rise  to  a  higher  kind  of  science. 
The  real  difference  is  to  be  found  in  this,  that  in  the  case  of  an  historical 
study  we  are  led  to  investigate  the  laws  of  change  as  well  as  the  mere  dispo- 
sition of  facts  or  elements.  The  observation  of  the  oak  as  it  stands  is  the  same 
in  kind  as  the  tracing  of  its  growth  from  the  acorn  to  the  completed  tree:  a 
higher  kind  of  knowledge  is  implied  only  when  we  are  able  to  "look  into  the 
seeds  of  time,  and  say  which  grain  will  grow  and  which  will  not,"  or  when 
we  are  able  to  explain  why  from  a  given  grain  the  growth  took  place  in  one 
particular  direction  rather  than  in  another.  It  is,  in  short,  not  an  historical 
but  a  prophetic  science  which  is  higher  than  an  observational  one.' 

The  object  of  all  science  thould  be  more  or  less  prophetic,  and 
this  is  particularly  true  of  any  science  which  treats  a  body  of  phe- 
nomena in  which  we  are  so  vitally  interested  as  in  that  which  we 
find  in  modern  society.  Nevertheless,  a  fact  which  Mackenzie 
mentions  in  the  passage  just  quoted  has  greater  importance  than 
he  seems  to  attach  to  it.  If  in  any  study  we  are  "led  to  investi- 
gate the  laws  of  change  as  well  as  the  mere  disposition  of  facts 
or  elements,"  we  have  engaged  in  a  method  of  investigation  which 
will  give  us  an  insight  into  the  laws  of  future  change.  D)nianii- 
cal  sociology  must  certainly  be  prophetic,  but  in  a  very  real  sense 
the  inspiration  of  that  prophecy  must  come  from  the  past  and  pres- 
ent mode  of  development  of  society.  The  best  way  to  get  both 
the  analysis  and  the  prophecy  is  by  finding  how  society  came  to  be 
what  it  is.  Again,  while  recognizing  the  supreme  importance 
of  knowledge  of  the  way  in  which  the  social  organism  is  to  func- 
tion, we  must  reiterate  the  assertion  made  above,  namely,  that 
the  genetic  explanation  must  lie  at  the  basis  of  all  adequate  analy- 
sis of  present  structure  and  probable  function. 

THE  RELATION  OF  HISTORY  OF  THOUGHT  TO  SOCIAL  HISTORY    I 

We  come  now  to  the  consideration  of  the  bearing  of  such  a 
study  as  is  here  attempted  upon  the  study  of  the  development  of 

I  Op.  cit.,  24. 


394  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

thought.  The  histories  of  thought — histories  of  philosophy, 
ethics,  political  economy,  Christian  doctrine,  etc. — have  been 
carried  forward  as  if  they  dealt  with  bodies  of  phenomena  which 
have  a  real  existence  apart  from  the  social  activity.  In  a  certain 
sense  it  has  been  possible  to  regard  men's  philosophies  as  com- 
pletely abstracted  from  their  life.  After  men  have  formed  a 
theory  to  account  for  the  actual  phenomena  about  them,  this 
theory  itself  becomes  a  phenomenon  to  be  speculated  about  in 
common  with  all  others.  Therefore,  after  certain  concepts  are 
worked  out,  they  may  have  a  sort  of  development  apart  from  the 
devlopment  which  is  going  on  in  the  phenomena  of  which  these 
concepts  were  once  the  explanation.  The  manipulation  of  such 
concepts  has  constituted  no  small  part  of  men's  philosophies,  and 
their  expansion  and  transformation  have  constituted  the  major 
part  of  the  actual  history  of  philosophy.  This  aspect  of  philoso- 
phy accounts  for  the  fact  that  the  concepts,  which  at  first  had  a 
simple  meaning,  become,  as  they  are  manipulated  by  later  philoso- 
phers, abstruse,  unintelligible  to  the  uninitiated,  and  apparently 
wholly  disconnected  from  the  realities  of  life.  But  in  spite  of 
these  tendencies — which,  as  we  have  said  above,  grow  out  of  the 
fact  that  thought  may  itself  become  an  object  of  thought — philoso- 
phy has  never,  even  in  its  abstractest  mediaeval  form,  been  able 
to  free  itself  from  dependence  on  the  actual  life  of  society.  There 
is  a  continuity  of  thought,  making  possible  histories  of  philosophy 
which  are  more  than  heterogeneous  collections  of  curious  puzzles, 
because  there  is  a  continuity  of  social  life.^ 

Since  the  time  of  Kant,  the  dependence  of  philosophy  upon 
the  individual  sciences,  its  place  as  a  scientia  scientiarum,  has 
been  pretty  generally  recognized ;  but  with  the  exception  of  Win- 
delband,  and  in  a  less  degree  Kuno  Fischer,  no  important  historian 
of  philosophy  has  recognized  the  determining  influence  of  the  social 
life  on  philosophy.  Several  have  shown  some  appreciation  of 
the  reaction  of  philosophy  on  the  social  life.     Windelband  has 

I  "For  philosophy  receives  both  its  problems  and  the  materials  for  their 
solution  from  the  general  consciousness  of  the  time,  and  from  the  needs  of  society. " 
— ^Windelband,  History  oj  Philosophy,  13. 


METHOD  AND  SCOPE  OF  INQUIRY  395 

not  worked  out  the  statement  of  this  dependence  of  philosophy, 
but  he  distinctly  states  his  conviction  that  there  is  such  a  depend- 
ence: 

It  is  evident  farther,  that  the  relations  0}  philosophy  to  the  other  activities 
of  civilization  are  no  less  close  than  its  relation  to  the  individual  sciences. 
For  the  conceptions  arising  from  the  reUgious  and  ethical  and  artistic  hfe, 
from  the  life  of  the  state  and  society,  force  their  way  everywhere,  side  by  side 
with  the  results  won  from  scientific  investigation,  into  the  idea  of  the  universe 
which  the  philosophy  of  metaphysical  tendencies  aims  to  frame.' 

Further  on,  speaking  of  the  unity  of  connection  in  philosophical 
systems,  in  spite  of  the  variety  in  subject-matter  and  purpose,  he 
continues : 

This  common  product,  which  constitutes  the  meaning  of  the  history  of 
philosophy,  rests  on  just  the  changing  relations  which  the  work  of  the  phi- 
losophers has  sustained  in  the  course  of  history,  not  only  to  the  maturest 
results  of  science  in  general  and  of  the  special  sciences  in  particular,  but  also 

to  the  other  activities  of  European  civilization In   some   direction 

and  in  some  fashion  every  philosophy  has  striven  to  reach,  over  a  more  or  less 
extensive  field,  a  formulation  in  conception  of  the  material  immediately  given 
in  the  world  and  in  Ufe;  and  so,  as  these  efforts  have  passed  into  history,  the 
constitution  of  the  mental  and  spiritual  life  has  been  step  by  step  disclosed. 
The  History  of  philosophy  is  the  process  in  which  European  humanity  has 
embodied  in  scientific  conceptions  its  views  0}  the  world  and  its  judgments  of  life.' 

This  position  will  be  substantiated,  at  least  in  part,  in  the  fol- 
lowing pages.  It  will  appear — though  this  is  but  incidental  to 
the  general  inquiry — that  the  basis  of  all  important  philosophical 
speculations  is  found  in  the  social  life  of  the  times  in  which  they 
were  formulated.  Making  due  allowance  for  the  continuous 
manipulation  of  concepts  which  have  become  abstracted  from 
the  real  hfe  of  which  they  were  once  the  expression,  it  may  still 
be  held  that  the  controlling  force  in  men's  philosophies  has  been 
the  introjection  of  the  reahty  of  the  cosmos  into  their  conscious- 
ness. The  development  of  psychology  is  an  illustration  of  this. 
The  psychology  of  the  Socratic  philosophers  was  the  reflex  of 
the  social  life  of  the  time.  Socrates  found  the  common  facts  of 
the  artisanllfeThe  most  important  data  for  his  conclusions;   Plato 

I  Ibid.,  6.  The  italics  are  his  own. 
'  Ibid.,  9. 


396  DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 

held  that  society  was  man  "writ  large"  and  could  be  read  more 
easily  than  the  small  copy,  but  that  the  latter  could  be  understood 
when  the  former  was.  Plato  scarcely  got  to  an  individual  psy- 
chology, but  he  laid  the  foundation  for  it  in  his  division  of  the 
human  faculties  according  to  the  division  of  society  into  classes. 
From  that  time,  psychology  has  had  concepts  of  its  own  to  work 
over;  but  no  psychology  has  been  built  up  by  the  mere  working- 
over  of  these  concepts.  The  psychology  of  the  Middle  Ages, 
the  psychology  of  Hobbes,  the~psycftotogy  of  Locke,  the  modern 
psychology  which  in  some  respects  pursues  the  methods  of  the 
natural'sciehces,  all  Tiave  resulted  from  the  modification  of  pre- 
vious psychological  notions  by  the  forces  of  the  social  life.  So, 
also,  philosophy  in  general  has  had  a  course  of  development  from 
the  earliest  theories  of  nature  formulated  in  the  Greek  colonies,  and 
of  society  formulated  in  Athens,  but  at  every  stage  this  develop- 
ment has  been  shaped  by  the  nature  and  the  society  which  have 
pressed'  theXQ&elves  into  men's  consciousness.  Historians  of 
philosophy  and  of  theology  have  been  able  to  treat  the  great  lines 
of  thought  as  though  they  ran  their  course  in  the  air,  because  their 
form  has  been  largely  foreign  to  the  common  afifairs  of  life;  bet  a 
more  adequate  treatment  would  recognize  lines  of  influence  rising 
from  the  realities  of  the  social  life  and  blending  with  the  lines  of 
thought  which  have  come  down  from  the  past.  So  we  have  found 
the  theories  of  Jerome  and  Augustine,  of  Anselm  and  Roscellin, 
of  Descartes  and  Hobbes,  of  Voltaire  and  Rousseau,  of  Hegel  and 
Comte,  to  be  not  merely  the  vagaries  of  dreamers  or  geniuses,  not 
merely  theories  about  theories  about  facts,  but  the  expression  of  the 
actual  life  of  their  times.  Thought  is  as  organically  related  to  the 
whole  as  a  factory  or  a  legislature  is,  and  can  no  more  be  ade- 
quately treated  as  an  abstraction  than  such  institutions  can  be  so 
treated. 

It  follows,  then,  that  the  prerequisite  to  a  complete  understand- 
ing of  the  development  of  thought  is  a  knowledge  of  the  actual 
social  development,  including  the  scientific  views  of  nature  that 
have  been  held  at  the  various  periods.  On  the  other  hand,  of 
course,  a  knowledge  of  the  social  development  depends  in  part  upon 


METHOD  AND  SCOPE  OF  INQUIRY  397 

an  understanding  of  the  changes  which  have  gone  on  in  the  con- 
sciousness of  men;  for  as  every  change  in  society  must  change  the 
intellectual  constitution  of  the  individuals  who  compose  it,  so  every 
such  modification  of  consciousness  becomes  a  new  factor  in  social 
development  and  must  express  itself  in  a  modification  of  society.* 
Of  course,  this  refers  only  to  the  thought-movements  that  are 
more  than  mere  individual  variations  which  soon  pass  out  of  sight. 

If  this  is  true  of  all  philosophical  systems,  it  is  certainly  peculiar- 
ly true  of  social  philosophy.  Social  philosophies  are  conscious 
reflections  upon  the  social  order,  while  general  philosophies  may 
be  only  unconsciously,  though  none  the  less  truly,  related  to  the 
social  order.  Since  the  days  of  Plato,  men  have  been  framing 
social  philosophies.  These  are  important  to  us,  not  only  because 
thef  e  hus  probably  been  a  continuity  in  the  thought  itself,  but  because 
the  philosophies  help  us  to  an  understanding  of  the  social  devel- 
opment, which  is  necessary  in  order  to  prepare  the  way  for  con- 
ductive social  theorizing.  A  history  of  sociology  has  not  yet 
been  undertaken,  except  in  the  rather  schematic  histories  of  the 
philosophy  of  history.  Sociologists  seldom  go  back  of  Comte; 
and  the  development  of  thought  since  his  writings  can  scarcely 
be  said  to  have  received  systematic  and  thoroughgoing  treatment. 
Yet  the  systematization  of  social  thinking,  the  saving  it  from 
its  present  position  of  dependence  upon  the  vagaries  of  individual 
thinkers,  would  be  largely  advanced  by  the  possession  of  a  solid 
body  of  information  about  the  past  attempts  to  interpret  society. 

The  work  attempted  in  this  investigation,  although  reference 
is  frequently  made  to  important  thinkers,  is  merely  preliminary 
to  a  history  of  social  philosophy.  Social  philosophy,  to  be  under- 
stood, must  be  related  at  all  important  points  to  the  society  which 
it  attempts  to  explain.  Preliminary  work,  such  as  this,  may  assist 
in  that  relation;  and,  on  the  other  hand,  social  theories  throw 
light  upon  the  course  of  the  development  of  "the  organic  social 
Jife.  Both  procedures  naturally  flow  into  a  constructive  philoso- 
phy of  the  present  growing  social  order.  ^ 

I  Barth,  Die  Philosophic  der  Geschichte  als  Sociologie,  11. 
3  Ibid.,  9. 


INDEX 


INDEX 


Agricultiire :  early  German,  85;  later 
German,  11 7-19;  later  Roman,  iio- 
16;  Celtic  in  England,  129,  130; 
open-field,  129,  130;  surplus  of,  and 
manufactures,  195. 

Amalfi,  239  ff. 

Amos,  12. 

Ancient  period,  end  of,  68. 

Anselm,  99,  100. 

Anthropology  and  sociology,  377,  378. 

Apologists,  work  of,  73. 

Aquinas,  100,  loi,  289-95. 

Aristocracy  and  religious  conceptions, 
8,9. 

Aristotle,  49,  50. 

Art  consciousness  and  Greek  ethical  phi- 
losophy, 48. 

Asceticism,  meaning  of,  74,  76. 

Athenian  industries,  37  ff. 

Atonement,  doctrine  of,  99. 

Attention,  366. 

Augustine,  79-81. 

Austrian  economists,  351. 

Barbarians:  attitude  of,  toward  civili- 
zation, 82,  83,  88;  Roman  influence 
on,  86,  87,  115;  do  not  introduce  in- 
dividualism, 82,  83;   Bryce  on,  87. 

Barth  on  statics  and  dynamics,  383, 
384. 

Bishops  and  Prankish  administration, 
15s.  157- 

Blood-revenge  modified,  8. 

Britain:  agric\iltureinpre-Roman,  129; 
Roman  occupation  and  three-field 
system,  130. 

British  peasants  imder  Saxons,  133. 

Brotherly  relation  realized  in  emotional 
terms,  74,  78. 

Capital:  in  Middle  Ages,  191,  293,  294; 
and  Industrial  Revolution,  331,  332. 

Capitalism,  331  ff. 

Charlemagne:     compared   with    Otho, 


95;  Sismondi  on,  95-97;  Bryce 
on,  96,  97;  meaning  of  his  empire, 
96;    failure  of  Italian  system,   127. 

Chief,  barbarian,  transformation  of, 
136. 

Christianity:  eastern  and  western  com- 
pared, 78,  79;  and  Greek  thought, 
5i,~66)   extension  of,  to  gentiles,  70. 

Church:  development  of,  74-77,  79;  a 
reorganizing  power,  79;  magical 
power  of,  89,  297;  carries  over 
ideals,  92;  authority,  93;  economic 
activity,  94;  a  universal,  98,  99;  and 
the  serf,  183,  184;  and  commerce, 
192,  193;  economic  theories  of,  191, 
288,  291  ff.;  influence  of,  for  peace, 
305.  306. 

Cities:  southern  French  237-39;  Ital- 
ian, 2395.;  episcopal,  193,  197,  198; 
rise  of,  201  ff. 

City  of  God,  80,  81. 

Class-consciousness,  341. 

Collective  bargaining,  335,  341. 

Collectivism:  and  individuality, "^319, 
320;  practical,  without  conscious 
acceptance,  338,  339. 

Colonial  system,  Roman,  57,  58. 

Colonists,   American,   individuality  of, 

3"- 

Colons:  Roman,  1 13-15;  status  of, 
xmder  Franks,  161. 

Commerce:  after  fall  of  Rome,  109, 
186,  187;  under  Merovings,  164,  187; 
after  Charlemagne,  164,  184,  189, 
190;  and  money,  147;  histories  of, 
194;  in  luxuries,  188;  meaning  of, 
194;  character  of  European,  200; 
character  of  Italian,  248;  and  self- 
government,  201;   and  serfdom,  219. 

Commercial  leagues,  257  ff. 

Competition,  self -destructive,  333. 

Constitutions,  urban,  207  ff. 

Consumption:  Egyptian,  32;  Athe- 
nian, 41;  and  condition  of  laborers, 
41.  42,  354,  355\  socialized,  338,  353; 
and  production,  350,  352. 


401 


402 


DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 


Contract  theory:  of  Hobbes,  301,  302, 
304;   of  Rousseau,  315,  316. 

Control  of  technique  and  product: 
Egyptian,  28,  31,  32;  Greek,  33,  40- 
43;  mediaeval,  104,  119;  by  gilds, 
231;    by  modern  laborers,  354,  355. 

Cotton  industry,  English,  328,  329. 

Courts,  manorial,  152,  153,  168. 

Craft  gilds:  and  merchant  associa- 
tions, 221,  227;  origin  of,  228,  230; 
Brentano  on,  226,  227;  policy  of, 
231-33- 

Dante  on  state  and  church,  290. 
Demagogues,  Athenian,  39. 
Democracy,  absolutism  of,  314. 
Democratic  consumption,  356. 
Democratic  movement,  309  ff. 
Denmark  and  the  Hansa,  267,  268. 
Descartes  on  method,  300. 
Descriptive  sociology,  365,  367. 
Deuteronomic  code,  12,  13. 
Dewey:  on  historical  method,  390;   on 

social  organism,  374,  375. 
Distribution:     overemphasis    on,    351; 

automatic,  352. 
Domainial     administration:      Roman, 

no;    royal,   159,   179;    ecclesiastical, 

176-79. 
D)Tianiics  vs.  statics,  379-83. 

Economic:  problem  of  Middle  Ages, 
94,  95;  independence  of  manor,  163, 
164;  forces  and  origin  of  towns,  207; 
community  formed  by  commerce, 
262;  interests  of  Hansa,  273;  inter- 
dependence and  end  of  Middle  Ages, 
286;  interests  not  sole  basis  of  state, 
272-74;  philosophy  of  church,  291  ff; 
thought,  recent  changes  in,  350-52. 

Economics,  science  of  means,  373. 

Emotional  realization  of  social  ideals, 
106. 

Emperor,  Roman,  position  of,  58,  59. 

Empire:  establishment  of  Roman, 
58;  ethical  end  of,  60;  Holy  Roman, 
meaning  of,  92,  95,  275,  283. 

Ends,  function  of,  94. 

English:  feudalism,  128  ff.;  towns, 
214-17;  merchant  gilds,  216,  221- 
23;     monarchy,    277;    commerce    in 


Middle  Ages,  259;   democratic  move- 
ment, 314;  industrial  revolution,  339. 

Ethical:  problem  of  Middle  Ages,  94, 
95;  philosophy  and  art-conscious- 
ness, 48;  evolution  depends  on  eco- 
nomic, 102;  ideals  disregarded,  273, 
274;  ideals,  present  need  of,  361-64. 

Ethics,  science  of  ends,  373. 

Europe:  unity  of,  68;  begins  with  ideal 
of  social  order,  91. 

Factory  system,  beginning  of,  331. 

Facts,  meaning  of,  365-69. 

Fairs,  204,  205. 

Familia,  Roman,  no. 

Feudalism:     Italian,    1235.;     English, 

128  fif.;    general,   154$.;    recognized 

by  Otho,  173;   causes  of,  174-76. 
Feudal  system:    and  agriculture,    108; 

and  food-supply,  166;   uniformity  of, 

122;    persistence  of,    235;    and  the 

towns,  234. 
Flanders:   and  England,  260-62;  wool- 
en   industry   of,    196,    248,    260-62; 

merchant  gilds  of,  223,  224. 
Florence,  245  ff. 
Florentine:    gilds,    245-47;    commune, 

245;    woolen  industry,  248,  249. 
Frankish:    conquest,    155  ff.;    freemen, 

160-62;    counts,  169,  171,  173. 
Free  mark  theory,  137  ff. 
Freemen:   German,  117,  118,  122,  138; 

Frankish,  160-62;    Saxon,  142,  143; 

must   control   product    of    industry, 

354  ff. 
French  monarchy:    rise  of,    276,    277; 

and  the  towns,  211-13;  and  merchant 

gilds,  223,  224. 

Generalization,  Greek  and  mediaeval 
compared,  97-99. 

Genetic  explanation,  importance  of, 
376,  379- 

German:  early  social  life,  83-85;  pri- 
vate ownership,  85;  agriculture,  85, 
130,  148  ff.;  village,  117;  slaves,  118- 
20;  towns,  213;  unification  delayed, 
280-83. 

Gild:  merchant,  216,  221-24;  nature 
of,  217,  218,  221;  craft,  226  ff.;  capi- 
talistic, 230-32;  control  of  technique, 
231-35;    and  manor  compared,  234, 


INDEX 


403 


235;   and  individual,  235,  236;   arti- 
sans freed  from,  311. 

Gross  on  gild  merchant,  226  ff. 

Hamburg  and  its  Hanse  in  England, 
265. 

Hansa,  Teutonic,  263  ff. 

Hanse  of  London,  231,  263. 

Heaven,  development  of  idea  of,  76. 

Hobbes,  social  philosophy  of,  301  ff. 

Household  estates  of  Germans,  118. 

Hypothesis,  working,  365-67. 

Ideal  community  and  ideal  individual, 
65,  66. 

Ideals:  Christian,  74;  and  social  decay, 
91;  importance  of  mediasval,  91; 
held  by  church,  92 ;  give  unity  to  me- 
diaeval society,  93,  94;  emphasized 
by  Charlemagne,  95;  present  social, 
359  ff- 

Idle  classes,  358. 

Immunity,  168-72. 

Individual:  prophets  recognize,  15,  16; 
in  teaching  of  Jesus,  2 1 ;  disregarded 
by  Roman  Empire,  60;  outcome  of 
Hebrew  development,  65,  66;  condi- 
tions of  definition  of,  65,  66,  69;  of 
Augustine,  79-81;  and  conscious- 
ness of  social  values,  106,  107,  235; 
and  control  of  product  of  industry, 
236;  of  Hobbes,  301;  emphasized  by 
democratic  movement,  310;  of  En- 
lightenment, 313,  315,  318;  modem, 
313,  319;  and  consumption,  353;  a 
social  outcome,  376. 

Industrial  peace,  342,  343,  347,  348. 

Industrial  Revolution:  and  mechanical 
inventions,  325,  331;  and  division  of 
labor,  325;   and  thought,  362. 

Industrialism,  324  ff. 

Industry:  influence  on,  of  Egypt,  26  ff.; 
Greek  idealized,  36;  control  of,  in 
Egypt,  26  ff.;  survival  of  Roman, 
103;  mediaeval,  freed  from  technical 
control,  104;   in  the  towns,  202. 

Institutional  framework  contributed  by 

Rome,  64. 
Inventions,  mechanical,  329-31. 

Invasions,  influence  of,  on  church,  79, 
88. 


Irrigation,  Egyptian,  and  social  organi- 
zation, 28. 

Isaiah,  16. 

Israel:  contribution  of,  2  ff.;  monothe- 
ism of,  2-4;  monarchy  of,  6ff.;  and 
world-empires,  13  ff. 

ItaUan:  merchant  associations,  224; 
commercial  cities,  239  ff . ;  decay  of 
commercial  cities,  248  ff . ;  leagues 
impossible,  252,  256. 

Jeremiah,  16. 

Jerusalem,  New,  conception  of,  76. 

Jesus,  ethical  teaching  of,  20,  21,  69,  70. 

Jewish  church,  beginning  of,  16,  19. 

Jus  civile,  62. 

Jus  gentium,  62,  63. 

Keynes  on  social  history,  391. 

Labor  rents,  commutation  of,  147,  197, 
219,  220. 

Laborers:  Egyptian,  28  ff.;  Athenian, 
36,  40-42;  Roman,  116;  mediaeval, 
freedom  of,  within  calling,  105 ;  unions 
of,  340  ff . ;  efficiency  of,  344,  345 ; 
share  of  values,  348;  modern,  con- 
trol product,  354,  355;  standards  of 
living  of  modem,  355. 

Land-holding:  Greek,  23,  24;  by  Ger- 
man households,  118;  by  chieftains, 
121;    by  counts,  127. 

Law:  of  nature,  62,  307;  Roman,  61  ff.; 
of  nations,  305  ff. 

Leagues,  commercial,  263  ff. 

Locke,  John,  314. 

London,  Hanse  of,  263. 

Luxuries,  nature  of  trade  in,  248,  250, 
252,  253;  become  necessaries,  258. 

Mackenzie:  on  social  organism,  374, 
375;   on  social  history,  392,  393. 

Magic:  use  of,  by  chtirch,  89,  99;  fail- 
ure of,  102,  297. 

Manager  differentiated  from  capitalist, 
334- 

Manorial  courts,  152,  153,  168. 

Manors:  number  in  Domesday  137; 
indivisibility  of,  137;  freemen  on, 
138;  antiquity  of  Saxon,  150;  eco- 
nomic independence  of,  163,  164,  184; 
productivity  of,  153,  154;  as  pohtical 
units,  172;    regulation  of,  174,  175; 


404 


DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 


ecclesiastical,  176-79;  mediate  be- 
tween individual  and  society,  182; 
manufactures  of,  195 ;  do  not  become 
towns,  203. 

Maritime  regulations,  240. 

Mark  theory,  137  ff.;  370. 

Markets,  mediaeval,  204,  205. 

Mathews,  Shailer,  on  social  philosophy 
of  Jesus,  75,  note. 

Means:  directed  by  ends,  94;  church 
attempts  to  organize,  94;  nature  of, 
required  by  Europe,  102. 

Mediaeval:  period,  limits  of,  68,  106, 
286;  wars,  93;  and  modem  thought 
compared,  93;  and  Greek  generali- 
zations compared,  97-99;   gilds,  105. 

Mediators:  required  by  mediaeval  so- 
ciety, 90;  ascetics  and  priests  as,  90, 
91;   manors  as,  182. 

Mercantilism,  278,  279,  283,  284. 

Merchants:  in  Dark  Ages,  199,  202; 
and  commercial  revival,  199;  and 
feudal  lords,  207-9;  ^^^  royal  power, 
210-13;  as  rulers,  217,  251,  252,  273; 
associations  of,  220-24,  246;  rela- 
tions of,  to  craftsmen,  228,  231,  247. 

Merovingian:  absolutism,  155-57,  169; 
counts,  158,  168,  169;  commerce,  164. 

Messianic  idea,  20. 

Method:  problem  of,  300;  of  social 
history,  389-93. 

Middle  Ages,  ideals  and  problem  of,  91. 

Military:  organization  of  Germans, 
118;  organization  and  slavery,  120; 
leader  becomes  ruler;  organization 
of  Saxons,  134. 

Modem:  period,  beginning  of,  286; 
philosophy,  298  ff. 

Monarchy:  French,  276,  277;  English, 
277. 

Monasteries  and  manual  labor,  177. 

Money  and  commerce   147. 

Monolatry,  Israelitish,  4,  5,  6. 

Monotheism :  Hebrew  and  Greek  com- 
pared, 2,  50;  economic  conditions  of, 
3;  and  monarchical  institutions,  6-9. 

Montesquieu,  314. 

Motives,  reorganization  of,  70. 

National  state:  impossible  in  Italy,  256, 
257;   development  of,  274  £f. 


Nations,  law  of,  305  ff. 

NaturaUzation  among  Semites,  6,  7. 

Nature:  law  of,  62;  interest  in,  299. 

Necessaries,  importance  of,  in  produc- 
tion, 353,  354. 

Netherlands,  279,  280. 

Nominalism,  100,  loi. 

Norman  conquest,  129,  145-48. 

Novgorod  and  the  Hansa,  266. 

Occam,  William  of,  loi. 

Organic  nature  of  modem  society,  358- 
61. 

Organism:  society  an,  373;  social, 
meaning  of,  374;  Mackenzie  and 
Dewey  on,  374,  375. 

Oriental  trade,  240,  253. 
Otho     and     Charlemagne     compared, 
95-97- 

Particular  and  universal,  99,  288,  300. 
Pauline  Christianity,  71,  72. 
Peadium  of  Roman  slave,   in,   112, 

Pecuniary  emulation,  236. 

Philosopher  in  Plato's  republic,  42,  47. 

Philosophy:  Greek,  37  ff.;  modern, 
298  ff . ;  political,  of  Renaissance, 
302  ff.;  social,  367,  368,  397;  and 
social  life,  395-97. 

Phoenicians:  influence  of,  on  Greeks, 
26  ff.;  as  intermediaries,  33— 35. 

Pigeonneau  on  beginnings  of  com- 
merce, 194. 

Pirenne  on  origin  of  towns,  201,  202. 

Plato's  state,  42,  47-49. 

Political:  history,  384,  385;  structure 
and  economic  interdependence,  271; 
organization  as  end  of  statesmen, 
273;  philosophy  of  Renaissance, 
302  ff. 

Popular  sovereignty,  315. 

Portuguese  expansion,  278. 

Prices:  and  consumption,  347;  and 
real  wages,  349;  and  production  of 
necessaries,  354, 356;  mediaeval  theory 
of,  292,  293. 

Priesthood,  meaning  of  mediaeval,  y6, 
77- 

Priests,  Hebrew:  relation  to  prophets. 


INDEX 


405 


10;  a  niling  class,  15;  ethical  con- 
ceptions of,  15,  16;   in  exile,  17,  18. 

Primitive:  social  life,  65;  institutions, 
interest  in,  370. 

Product  of  industry,  control  of,  40-42, 
354,  355- 

Production,  social  character  of  modem, 
2,2,^'  338,  350- 

Profits:  of  the  rich,  337,  338;  a  differ- 
ential, 343,  344;  failure  of  attacks  on, 
344,  345- 

Prophets,  Hebrew:  relation  to  priests, 
10,  14;  and  the  progressive  party,  10; 
and  individual  righteousness,  15,  16; 
failure  of,  17,  18. 

Public  opinion  and  democratic  govern- 
ment, 323. 

Realism,  99,  100,  288,  289. 

Reformation,  religious,  288  ff. 

Revolution:  theory  of,  315,  316;  Indus- 
trial, 325  £E. 

Rhodians,  law  of,  305,  306. 

Rich:   expenditures  of,  356;   idle,  358. 

Rogers,  Thorold,  on  economic  history, 
389- 

Roman:  colonial  system,  57,  58;  em- 
pire, 58;  state  and  Platonic  ideal,  59; 
law,  61  ff.;  system  and  the  organiza- 
tion of  Europe,  66,  67;  influence  on 
barbarians,  86,  87,  115;  agriculture, 
no;  slaves,  iii;  freedmen,  in,  112; 
colons,  1 1 2-1 5;  influence  on  British 
agriculture,  130,  131. 

Romanticism,  298,  299. 

Roscellinus,  100. 

Rousseau,  315,  316. 

Royal  domains:  administration  of,  159; 
influence  of,  179,  180. 

Sacrifice:   early,  9;   expiative,  14,  15. 

Saint,  character  of,  76. 

Seebohm  on  tribal  settlements,  118  ff. 

Semitic  tribal  Ufe,  3  ff. 

Serfdom,  120-26,  133-36,  149,  151,  152, 

161,  162,  218,  219. 
Signory,  Italian,  247,  254-56. 
Slavery:    meaning  of,  28,  29;    Greek, 

23,   39;     Roman    agricultural,     no. 

German,    in,    113;    impossible    in 

Middle  Ages,  105;   disappearance  of, 

118,  161,  162. 


Small  on  statics  and  dynamics,  381,  383. 
Social  consciousness,  370,  371,  391. 
Social  history,  methods  of,  387,  388. 
Social  ideals,  359  ff.,  93. 
Social  organism,  statement  of,  364,  374, 

375- 
Sociology,  367-72,  383,  384,  397. 
Spain,  unification  of,  278,  279. 
Spencer,  Herbert,  365,  367,  386. 

Standard  of  hving  and  modem  produc- 
tion, 355,  358. 

Standards,  Greek  conception  of,  46-49. 

State:  meaning  of,  373;  Platonic,  42- 
47;  national,  2  74ff.;  neither  means 
nor  end,  273,  274,  284;  Aquinas  on, 
289;  Dante  on,  290;  Hobbes  on,  303; 
Rousseau  on,  315,  316. 

Steelyard,  264-66. 

Stoic  philosophy,  influence  on  Roman 
law,  62,  63. 

Strikes,  346. 

Supernatural,  belief  in,  and  social  dislo- 
cations, 89. 

Surplus  wealth,  use  of,  336. 

Tacitus  on  German  life,  84,  85,  118. 
Technique:  abstraction  of,  26;  control 

of,  in  Egypt,  28,  31,  32;  freeing  of,  in 

Greece,  36;  control  of,  in  Greece,  40, 

41;  freedom  of,  in  Middle  Ages,  104; 

freedom  of,  and  legal  freedom,  119; 

becomes  common  property,  354. 
Teutonic:   agriculture,  117  ff.;    Hansa, 

2635. 
Textiles,  importance  of,  in  commerce, 

196,  200. 
Theology  and  Greek  philosophy,  72,  73. 
Thought,  histories  of,  385,  394,  395. 
Towns,  rise  of,  201  ff. 
Toynbee  on  employer  and  employee, 

343- 
Trade  unions,  343-49. 
Tribal  organizations  and  the  invasions, 

120,  121. 
Tribes  and  gods,  4. 
Turkish  conquests,  253. 

Unification  of  Europe:  and  agricul- 
ture, 184,  185;  and  national  states 
283-85. 


4o6 


DEVELOPMENT  OF  WESTERN  CIVILIZATION 


Union  labor:  and  efl&ciency,  344,  345; 
and  unorganized  labor,  345;  and  em- 
ployers, 346,  347- 

Unity  of  society:  mediaeval,  in  ideals, 
91;  modem,  in  activities,  287. 

Universals:  Greek  and  mediaeval  com- 
pared, 97-99;  and  particulars,  99; 
reconciliation  by  magic,  99. 

Urban  constitutions,  207  S. 

Vassalage:    in  Italy,   124-26;    in  Eng- 
land, 136,  145-48;   European,  172  ff. 
Venice,  241  ff. 


VinogradofE  on  Norman  conquest,  145, 
148-51. 

War  leader  becomes  chief,  85. 

Ward,  L.  F. :  on  statics  and  dynamics, 

380,  381;  on  history,  386. 
Western  Europe  and  religious  theories. 

81. 
Wilson,    Woodrow,    on    expansion    of 

Rome,  57. 
World-history,  beginning  of,  13  ff. 
Wundt,  on  statics  and  d)Tiamics,  383 

384. 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A     000  532  785     3 


^iAliKOKMAL  SCHOOL 


